1Day: A Creddie Journey
by PhunkyBrewster
Summary: All extraordinary bonds take some time to evolve, but you can check in on Carly and Freddie's relationship on the same day each year: June 21st. Loosely based on the novel, One Day by David Nicholls. COMPLETED COLLECTION.
1. June 21, 2005

**Disclaimer: I do not own iCarly, nor the novel, One Day **. Both belong to Dan Schneider and David Nicholls, respectively.** **

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><p><em><strong>June 21, 2005<strong>_

Bushwell Plaza smells like soup; from the lobby to the elevator, even our own apartment smells like broth.

And I don't mean that in a good way, like when you come home from the freezing cold and the smell of mom's homemade soup warms your insides before you even take the first delicious sip. No, not that.

Bushwell Plaza smells like gross, salty soup. Like, when you're visiting Grandma and she makes that disgusting split pea soup and uses words like "hearty" and "nutritious." I can practically taste the air and it makes me sick to my stomach. Bleh. I already hate it here.

Mom moved us here because of a job offer she got at a local hospital here in Seattle. It all happened so quickly: first, the clinic she was working at closed down, then a week later she was called about a job at St. Frances Hospital, then three days after that we were checking out different places to live here in Washington! I hadn't even fully processed the fact that my old life was coming to an end before I was dragged to another city four hours away to start preparing for my new one. She ended up choosing Bushwell because of their "no pets" policy, and she was less worried about me getting sick from "filthy beast germs" here than any of the other places we had looked at.

Leave it to my mom to find the most boring place in the city to live; not that Eugene, Oregon was the coolest place on the planet, but I had friends there. There were tons of kids in my old neighborhood and my school was so much fun. I haven't seen any other kids at Bushwell yet. All I've seen are old people and a crabby doorman with a sickeningly large mole on his face. Plus, this whole "no pets" thing made me miss all of the neighbor's dogs that I used to play with.

So, just to compare…

Eugene: friends, a cool school, and puppies galore.

Seattle: A large hairy mole, a strong soupy smell, and the elderly.

Man, this place really sucks.

I was so caught up in my dislike of the place that I hadn't even heard my mom calling me from the kitchen.

"Fredward!" she cries desperately, effectively snapping me out of my sulking.

"Yes, mom?" I respond, trying not to sound too down.

She walks towards me, holding out a big box full of scrap newspaper and crumpled masking tape and a tied plastic bag filled with additional trash balanced on top. She set the box and bag down on the couch. "I need you to take that trash to the dumpster and I need to you to put this," she continued as she pulled out a stamped envelope from her back pocket, "into the mail drop box outside of the entrance. Then come straight back so I can rub your hands with antibacterial gel."

"Yes, mom," I agreed, unable to keep the reluctance out of my voice. Before I can grab the box, she puts a gentle hand on my shoulder.

"Hey, sweetheart," she says tenderly, "I know this is all very new, but I promise that, in time, you'll fall in love with Seattle."

I shrug. "We'll see."

"Will you promise to at least try?" she pleads with a small smile. It wasn't very often that my mom actually asked anything of me; her wants usually came in the form of aggressive commands followed by threats of an impending tick bath. When she's actually being reasonable, it's hard to argue with her.

I smile. "Alright, mom. I promise to try."

Satisfied, she comes forward and pinches both of my cheeks firmly. "That's my good boy. Now hurry along and take out the trash."

I grab the large box and the bag and head for the door. Mom calls after me before I reach the knob. "Freddie! Don't forget the mail!" Since my hands are full, she slips the envelope in my back pocket. "And come straight back! Oh, and no talking to strangers!"

"Yes, mom. I'll be right back!"

I crane my neck so that I can see around the box. Mom opens the door wide so that I can exit into the hallway. I'm trying to walk as carefully as I can, since my vision is kind of limited. Luckily, the elevator is just around the corner, so I make it there and manage to get in and press the lobby button with only a little bit of difficulty.

Great. The soup smell is getting stronger. I can't be the only one who's bothered by it.

I hear the elevator ding, as well as the doors slide open. Craning my neck around the box once again, I carefully exit the elevator into the lobby. I can feel the box slip out of my grip just a little bit, so I hoist it up in an attempt to get a firmer hold. The doorman is yelling something about his "perfect floor," but I can barely understand it. I keep going until I hear a girl's voice from behind me.

"Hey, you!"

I turn around to find a girl with dark hair standing there, smiling and holding the envelope that was once in my back pocket. She looks like she could be my age, though she also looks to be an inch taller than me. Another thing I notice about her is how pretty she is. I've never seen a girl as pretty as her before. I mean, there were a few pretty girls in my school, but not this pretty.

"You dropped this," she points out, thrusting the envelope in my direction. Then she notices that my hands are full. "Oh! Sorry, I guess your hands are a little full."

"Uh, y-yeah, a little," I mumble. Ugh, I sound like such a dork. I readjust the box, which causes the bag on top of the box to fall on the floor. Great, now I sound like a moron _and _look like a clumsy mess in front of this really pretty girl.

She giggles, to my dismay and my delight, because I don't want to look like an idiot in front of her, but she has a _really_ cute laugh. I can't resist chuckling along.

"Need some help?" she asks, grabbing the fallen bag before I even have the chance to respond. As she comes closer, my nose is filled with an amazing smell that I can't fully recognize. It's like a mixture of coconut and something else…strawberries, maybe? Whatever it is, it smells amazing and it totally overpowers the soup smell. I'm momentarily hypnotized by her scent as she looks at me expectantly. I shake off the trance I'm in and eventually answer her.

"Oh! Uh, sure! Yeah, I could use some help. Thanks a lot!" I really hope I don't sound too eager.

Luckily, she just smiles back as we both head out the front door. "Cool. So, I haven't seen you around here before. Are you new?"

"Yup. My mom moved us from Oregon. We just got here this morning. I'm Freddie, by the way. Freddie Benson."

"Hi, Freddie. I'm Carly Shay. It's nice to see another kid around here! There aren't too many our age. You're eleven, too, right?"

I nod my head enthusiastically. We pass the mailbox, which I nod at. She drops the envelope in the box and leads the way to the side of the building where the dumpster is. Since the dumpster is kind of tall, we set the box and the bag at the corner of the drop-off and make our way back to the building.

"Thanks for your help, Carly," I say.

"No problem," she replies. "So, which apartment did you move into?"

"8-D," I answer, hoping that my new apartment is somewhat close to hers.

"No way!" she exclaims, her smile lighting up her face. "You're right across the hall from me!"

Awesome. Awesome, awesome, awesome!

"Wow, that's pretty, um, awesome!" I say lamely as I mentally kick myself for sounding so stupid. We enter the lobby (which is missing a grumpy, mole-having doorman, thank God!) and head for the elevator.

"Lewbert must have went on his break," Carly observes, pointing at the front desk.

"His name is _Lewbert_? No wonder he's so cranky," I joke. She laughs and her eyes kind of sparkle. That's when I notice that she had the same color eyes as me. I've never really liked my brown eyes, but hers look…perfect.

We both lunge for the "up" button and end up pressing it at the same time, fingers bumping together. The contact makes my stomach flip and I'm sure that I'm blushing like a fool. She just smiles.

"Whoops," she shrugs as the elevator doors open and she walks inside. I follow dumbly, feeling led by the smell of coconut and berries. We ride up to the 8th floor in silence and I wish that I can come up with something cool to say. Unfortunately, we arrive at our floor before I can come up with anything.

"See ya around, Freddie!" she waves cheerfully before skipping off.

"See ya around, Carly!" I echo just before she enters her apartment. Her scent remains behind, and it somehow stays with me well after she's gone. I notice that I no longer smell soup. All I smell is Carly Shay, the pretty girl who now lives right across the hall.

Home sweet home.

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><p><strong>AN: I know I said I was taking a break, but I think I've developed quite an addiction to writing. :o)**

**This fic is based on the novel One Day by David Nicholls. For those of you who haven't read it, the novel follows the evolving relationship between two friends, Emma and Dexter, over the coarse of twenty years. Each chapter of the book is like a snapshot of their friendship that is taken on the same day each year: July 15th. It's a hilarious, truly endearing read and one of my favorite books. I highly recommend it.**

**I thought it would be fun to do the same for Carly and Freddie in a series of drabbles and ficlets (probably more ficlets than drabbles, since I'm awful at keeping things short). I'm not positive that this story will follow them for quite as long, but you never know. I chose the date June 21st, which is my fiance's birthday. This story is dedicated to him. :o)**

**I hope you guys enjoy this story! Please review, if you have a moment!**

**Hollaatchyagirl,**

**Phunky**

**P.S.- I just have to say one quick thing to the Creddie-centric writers. I have now come across two AMAZING stories that have been abruptly abandoned by authors who have "given up" due to the events of the most recent episode of iCarly. Please, please, PLEASE don't let one episode discourage you from sharing your perception of true love or stifle your creativity. It's not that serious. Trust me.**

**Okay, I'm hopping off my soapbox now. You all are wonderful and have a great night!**


	2. June 21, 2007

_**June 21, 2007**_

Carly has to be an angel, I'm sure of it. Aside from the fact that she is crazy beautiful, she's kind and considerate and funny and smart…she's beyond amazing.

So you have to understand why it's a TOTAL MYSTERY how she can be best friends with this blonde-headed, foul-mouthed, acid-spewing spawn of Satan! Seriously, what brought these two together? Better yet, why am I allowing myself to stick around as her personal punching bag? All these questions stream through my mind as the three of us sit in Carly's living room, working on a summer assignment.

"Hey, Freddie, can you pass me the carrot sticks?" Carly asks, her eyes focused on her essay.

Ah, her. She's the reason I put up with any of it. Being around her makes it all worth it.

But still. Sam Puckett is the worst.

I grab the bag of carrot sticks from the table and pass them to her, for which I'm rewarded with a small smile.

"Thanks," she mumbles, then follows it with a frustrated groan. "Uuuuugh, this is so dumb! How does Ms. Briggs expect us to write a 4,000 word essay on a career that we want to have when we grow up? We're only thirteen!"

"Yeah," I agree, "not to mention the fact that it's SUMMER!"

"Well, I don't know about you guys," Sam interjects while she stretches on the couch, "but I plan on writing about four hundred words about why I want to be a chef. The rest is just going to be recipes copied and pasted from the internet. It practically writes itself!"

Carly looks up at Sam with a smirk. "Wow, an essay that involves food_, _cheating, _and_ complete disregard for the assignment!"

I scoff. "No surprise there."

I can feel Sam zero-in on me before I even have a chance to return to my work. I look up to find that smile of hers, the one that exudes pure evil.

"I bet I know what career you're going for when you grow up, Fredwina," she states proudly.

Here we go.

"And what's that, Sam?" I ask reluctantly.

"Well, you're boring, you have no friends, your mom's an overprotective psycho, and you seem to think that one day Carly's gonna lose her mind and fall in love with a camera-holding monkey like you," she lists, ticking each item off with her fingers. "Obviously you're planning on being a successful comedian, 'cuz your life is one big joke!"

I should be used to Sam's ribbing by now, but her words anger me, nonetheless. It's not her opinions of me nor my mother, nor that she thinks that I have no friends. It's not even the way she openly mocks my feelings for Carly, since she's well aware of them by now. It's the way she finds it so insane that Carly could ever go for a guy like me, like I'm such a loser that the thought of her finding me worthy of a shot is impossible. Sure, she's not into me now, but the possibility of her never liking me as more than a friend kills me and Sam, naturally, finds amusement in that. I repeat: Sam Puckett is the worst.

I open my mouth for a retort, but Carly cuts in.

"Sam, you don't have to be so mean to Freddie!" she cries, and I'm pleased to see that she actually looks bothered by Sam's behavior.

The blonde shrugs. "I know I don't _have _to be mean. It's one of the perks of hanging around a loser. He's like a verbal scratching post!"

Both Carly and I roll our eyes. I guess to expect a shred of remorse from Sam is expecting too much.

Sam suddenly stands up. "I can hear that pot of chili in your fridge calling my name, Shay," she declares with a rub of her stomach just before dashing into the kitchen. Carly shakes her head and turns to face me.

"Don't listen to her, Freddie," she says softly.

"It's hard _not_ to listen to her when she _never shuts up_," I respond.

She smiles. "They're just her opinions. Plus, we both know that Sam's more known for being honest than she is for being right. Just because she thinks it, doesn't mean it's true."

I wait for Carly to correct herself, for her to add that Sam may have been right about there being no chance of her ever falling for me. Instead she grabs another carrot stick and returns to her essay. I know I should ask her to clarify instead of getting my hopes up, but I can't bring myself to do it. The possibility, even at its smallest, is too tempting to give up just yet. I return to my assignment, grinning to myself.

_Just because she thinks it, doesn't mean it's true._

Possibilities, no matter how tiny, feel incredible.

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><p><strong>AN: Thank you all so much for the support you have shown thus far! I'm very glad that people are giving it a chance. I hope not to disappoint!**

**I hope everyone has a great weekend!**

**Hollaatchyagirl,**

**Phunky**


	3. June 21, 2008

_**June 21, 2008**_

"Freddie, honey, did you pack your allergy medicine?"

"Yes, mom, it's in the front pocket!" I'm pretty sure that's the third time she's asked that in the last ten minutes.

"And how about underwear?" she asks from across the apartment. "Did you pack enough for two weeks?"

Two weeks of Mother/Son Bonding Camp. God help me.

"Mom, I'm pretty sure I packed enough underwear!" I answer in a strained voice. Suddenly, there's a knock at the door. I rush to open it and find Carly standing there, holding something behind her back. I look at her blankly for a moment.

"Please tell me you didn't just hear me and my mom shouting just a moment ago," I plead hopefully.

Carly smirks. "You mean how you and her were just yelling back and forth about your underwear? Nope, didn't hear a thing!" She laughs, but I know she's laughing _with_ me rather than _at_ me. I roll my eyes and smile as I step out into the hallway to allow us some privacy.

"So, what's up?" I ask, rocking back and forth on the balls of my feet.

"Just wanted to catch you before you left," Carly shrugs. "I still can't believe that the camp you're going to actually banned processed sugar!"

"Yeah," I groan. "Ever since Tough Love magazine named it this year's number one enemy against children, the camp declared it a 'dangerous substance.' It's one of the many _wonderful_ reasons my mom chose Camp Hugs N' Kisses. I actually looked at the schedule online! They have something called 'Womb Reflection Time!' I should be scared, right?"

Carly grimaced and shuddered. "Yeah," she nods. "Yeah, you should be very afraid, Freddie."

I let out an exaggerated breath, then I draw attention to the item behind her back. "So what's behind your back? Is it a big secret?"

"Actually, it's a gift for you!" she says excitedly as she pulls a mid-sized plain cardboard box from behind her back. "Don't open it in front of your mom, though."

"Got it," I say with a big grin. I take the box, which feels a little heavy for its size. My curiosity wants me to open in now, but I figure that's probably a bad idea if Carly doesn't think mom should see it.

"Thanks, Carly," I say gratefully. "Pray that I don't die of embarrassment at this thing."

"Well, if you haven't yet…"

"Good point," I laugh. She smiles, then gives me an all-too-brief hug before heading back to her apartment.

"See you in two weeks, Freddie!" she says, waving goodbye.

"Later!" I reply, wishing more than anything that I had the guts to chase after her and pull her into another hug…or even a little kiss. Cursing my own cowardice, I return to my apartment, where my mom is, thankfully, still running around. I don't think she even noticed that I had left. I sneak by her and go straight for my suitcase, where I tuck the box under a stack of shorts. I zip the bag up and take it into the living room. With any luck, the next two weeks will go by quickly.

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><p>Luckily, the first day is usually tame. I don't think I could have handled any of the intense bonding seminars after a long drive and drawn-out registration process. Mom went off to have a glass of milk with a group of mothers from the neighboring cabin and left me to myself. I took this opportunity to open Carly's present. I dig in my suitcase and retrieve the cardboard box, which I carefully open. Reaching inside, I pull out an old looking book, a book that I've never seen nor heard of before. It's an odd gift coming from anyone, but especially Carly. Before I have a chance to open it, a note from behind the book drifts to the floor. I pick it up and sit on the bed, preparing to read it. Her perfect, loopy writing adorns the page.<p>

_Hey, Freddie!_

_Sam gave me the idea from a story she told me about the time she snuck a razor blade to her cousin in prison inside a giant cupcake. Your mom's right: Sam Puckett is a bad influence. :o)_

_Hope this gets you through the next two weeks!_

_Hugs,_

_Carly_

After reading the note, I quickly pick up the book and open it to see what she's talking about. As I pull back the cover, I see that the book has been hollowed out and filled with miniature 3 Musketeers bars and AirHeads. I can feel my heart literally quicken with delight at the sight of sugar, and my love for this girl grows even stronger. I also make a mental note to thank Sam for inspiring this gift when I return to Seattle. Wearing a smile the size of Texas, I tear open a miniature AirHead and sink my teeth into the sugary goodness. Thanks to Carly, the next two weeks may not be so terrible.

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><p><strong>AN: Thanks for reading, you guys! Let's just get through these young, awkward years together, shall we? :-)**

**I'm so glad to see people following this story! The reviews have been great to read and have inspired me to continue...because trust me: writing about the earlier years is tough. I'm thankful that people are enjoying it and I'm excited to approach some of the chapters that await us in the future. **

**Please review, if you'd like! If you'd rather not, no worries. I'm still grateful for you!**

**Have an awesome night!**

**Hollaatchyagirl,**

**Phunky**


	4. June 21, 2010

_**Disclaimer: I do not own iCarly. I also do not own One Day by David Nicholls.**_

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><p><em><strong>June 21, 2010<strong>_

The sight of Carly and Baby Stephanie asleep on my couch is a mixture of hilarious and adorable. Right now, Carly is sitting upright with her head tilted backwards. Stephanie is lying down with her head in Carly's lap, her thumb securely tucked in her mouth. The scene is so cute and so vastly different from the chaos that ensued earlier that I can't help but snap a picture with my digital camera.

I was recruited, once again, to baby sit my cousin, Stephanie, and Carly came by to keep me company (though I'm sure it was mainly due to boredom. With Sam visiting some out-of-town relatives and Spencer attending an art Show in Vegas, I'm sure she felt pretty lonely). When she arrived, I immediately launched into how much of a handful Stephanie was.

"She's possessed!" I shouted over the toddler, who was running around the apartment while singing a Sesame Street song at the top of her lungs. Carly watched me in amazement as I chase after her.

"I'm sure you just have to find a way to relate to her," she offered. "All you have to do is level with her."

I scooped Stephanie up and turned to Carly with a look of utter bewilderment.

"Level with a two-year-old?" I cried as the little girl squirmed and sang in my arms. I'll never understand how Carly can make such big suggestions sound so simple. "Carly, how in the world am I supposed to 'level' with a child who wears Pull-Ups?"

"Oh, Freddie," she sighed with a smug expression. "She probably just needs a feminine influence. Here, let me try."

And "try," she did. For the next three hours she ran herself ragged in attempts to calm down the hyper child, to no avail. Stephanie had bottomless energy and did not want to do anything that involve sitting, remaining quiet, or behaving calmly. Anytime Carly would approach her with a game or a toy, the child would scream, cry, or smack the item out of Carly's hand. We began to lose count of the number of items little Stephanie had broken, tried to swallow, or flushed down the toilet. I'm pretty sure I also saw her eyes glow an eerie shade of red, much like a demon I saw one time in an anime. After hour three, Carly flopped on the couch and watched as Stephanie continued to run ramped. There were tears in her eyes and she looked totally distraught.

"Oh, my God, I'm going to be a terrible mother," she said sadly, as if it were an absolute truth.

"C'mon, Carls, you're sixteen!" I reminded her with a slight roll of my eyes as I sat down next to her. "I'm sure you're going to be a great mother someday. Stephanie's own mother can't control her half of the time, so don't consider the three hours you've spent around her an indication that you're going to be a bad parent."

Carly gave me a small smile, though I don't think she was entirely convinced. I shrugged.

"Well, if you still think you're going to be a bad mother, you can always marry me. After today, I'm sure that I'm never, ever having kids. We can live in a childless house with a bunch of tropical fish and watch game shows all day!"

This made Carly laugh and she swatted by arm playfully. Though I was joking, the vision wasn't half bad at all. I stood up.

"You just watch some television. Stephanie's my responsibility, anyways. I'll look for her coloring book and crayons and see if I can't lure her to the coffee table for a few moments. I went to the back room as Carly turned on an episode of Girly Cow. After a few moments of searching I find her coloring book and bring it back to the living room. When I get there, I find Stephanie sitting quietly next to Carly while watching TV. Carly looked at me with a surprised look.

"She loves the show!" Carly marveled. "I think it's all the bright colors!"

"Whatever it is, let's not question it," I said quietly, as if raising my voice will snap her out of some spell that's causing her to act normally. I set the book gently on the coffee table and sit in the arm chair next to the sofa, staring intently at my newly calm cousin. She giggles at a funny sound from the television and makes herself comfortable by resting her head in Carly's lap. Carly's facial expression softened.

"Awwwwww," she gushed. "She's so cute when she's not crazy!"

"Isn't she?" I laugh as I watched Stephanie's eyes flutter until they eventually close.

"She's asleep," I whisper to Carly.

Carly looks down and smiles. "Thank. God."

I chuckle softly. "Do you want something to drink? We have grape juice and diet cola."

"Oooh, grape juice, please."

"Coming right up." I stand up and make my way to the kitchen. I take down two glasses and retrieve the juice from the refrigerator. I hope that I can somehow get Stephaniee to the bed in my room so that Carly and I can hang out in peace and quiet for a little bit. It would be nice to have a regular conversation with her without having to yell over a tiny, yapping little girl. After I pour us both a drink, I turn around to find Carly fast asleep, much like the child in her lap. I stand there and smile for a little while, wishing that I could someone freeze this moment. I opt to take a picture instead.

I decide to leave them there for as long as they need the rest. Before doing so, however, I gently kneel in front of the slumbering toddler, who truly does look adorable at her quietest. I lean forward, brush her strawberry blonde locks away from her forehead, and place a quick kiss at her temple.

"Sweet dreams, you little monster," I say affectionately just before standing to my feet. I look at the other sleeping beauty, her dark brunette locks cascading down the back of the couch and a slight snore escaping from her lips. In that moment, I wish that I have enough guts to give her the same little kiss I gave Stephanie. Instead, I settle myself in the arm chair and watch some TV. I pull up the picture on my camera and gaze at it for a while. This is definitely a picture I could get used to.

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><p><strong>AN: I hope you all enjoyed this installment. I actually enjoyed writing this one more than I anticipated. **

**I hope you are all doing well! Please continue to read and review!**

**Love you all and have a great night!**

**Hollaatchyagirl,**

**Phunky**


	5. June 21, 2011

**From: "Carly Shay" Do_U_Like_Pina_ Carlottas (at) zmail . com **

**To: BensonBot241994 (at) zmail . com  
><strong>

**Cc:**

****Sent: Tuesday, June 21, 2011 2:32 PM**  
><strong>

**Subject: (no subject)**

_FREDDIE!_

_I'm sitting outside of my room in Hale Hall at Tennessee State University because my creepy trip mate, Tawnee Maxwell, decided that now would be the perfect time to practice her harmonica. Keep in mind, please, that this is ONLY one-hour break that we get from 7 a.m. to 10 p.m. and I've wanted nothing more than to take a nap all day! The best part is that within the six days we have been on this trip, she has called me her "new best friend" and insists that we go to the same college and become roommates. I don't know how many ways I can politely say "hell no." Isn't she in your Chemistry class? Why didn't you warn me of how frickin' weird she was?_

_No, I'm totally not bitter about you bailing out on this trip and leaving me with the crazies. Nope, not bitter at all. ;o)_

_This summer college tour has been interesting, though! I've met some really cool people that I probably wouldn't normally talk to at Ridgeway and we've toured so many different campuses that I'm starting to confuse them all…and the trip isn't even half over yet! The only problem is that we're constantly walking, or hearing lectures, or sitting through some panel discussion or blah blah blah blah…I wish we just spent more time interacting with the college students. That's the best way to get a true feel of the schools, right? Speaking of interacting, I've been invited to a few frat parties between the three universities we've visited so far! Don't worry, I haven't actually gone to any of them…yet. :-P_

_I have to admit that the farther I get away from Seattle, the more I miss it. Not that Seattle itself has been THE place to be or anything, but I just miss everything that makes home "home." I thought that when the time came to head to college, I'd want to be as far away from Washington as possible so that I could feel completely independent. Now…I'm not so sure I want to be that far. I mean, I still want to be independent, but I don't' want to be on the other side of the country. I'm not even sure that I want to be more than a couple hours away. Is that weird? Please tell me that doesn't sound too weird._

_But seriously, all I've been able to think about lately is how much I would miss Spencer's awesome advice and watching things around him catch on fire, or how I would miss Sam's pranks and going to Build-A-Bra with her. Such small stuff that I kind of take for granted now that I know I would TOTALLY lose my mind without._

_Not to mention that I would miss running to you when I needed someone to just keep me sane, or when I needed to hear a corny joke! At the last college we visited, the doors looked exactly like the ones at Bushwell. When I got to my room, I completely forgot where I was and I knocked on the door across the hall and yelled "Freddie, come over!" A very confused German exchange student kindly let me know that I had the wrong door. Embarrassed? More than you can imagine, but it made me realize how much I would miss just being across the way from you. Stop grinning, Freddie. :o)_

_You'd tell me if I was being stupid, so be honest. Am I just being a baby, or is it normal to want to be close to home?_

_I hear silence coming from my room. I'm going to sneak in a quick nap before they have us running around campus some more. Call you later this week. Make sure you pick up the phone this time!_

_Hugs,_

_Carly_

_P.S. - When I get back in a nine days, can we grab a smoothie and then sit in the studio and just stare at the wall? Let's just sit and do nothing. Cool?_

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><p><strong>From: "Fredward Benson" BensonBot241994 (at) zmail . com<br>**

**To: Do_U_Like_Pina_Carlottas (at) zmail . com  
><strong>

**Cc:**

****Sent: Tuesday, June 21, 2011 5:21 PM**  
><strong>

**Subject: RE:(no subject)**

_CARLY SHAY!_

_Let me start by saying that you better not go to any of those frat parties! Seriously, obviously conflicting ideals aside, that's just dangerous._

_Tawnee is…different…she's nice though! I think. Just try to keep your distance from her when you can…and DON'T give her your e-mail! I cannot stress this enough._

_I don't think what you're saying is weird at all. It's perfectly natural to not want to stray too far from home. And for the record: you can be close to Seattle and still be independent. I really doubt that Spencer would try to keep a tight leash on you, no matter where you go. We have time. Just really think about what you want and the answer will come to you. Whether you decide to go to Boston or just around the corner, Sam, Spencer, and I will always be within reach, you know that._

_FYI: Washington State University has an incredible veterinary medicine program. Think about it: you'd only be about five hours away from home, you'd be studying exactly what you want to study and (best of all) I'll be there (hopefully) studying Computer Engineering. It's also close enough for Sam to come by and mooch off of us! It works on all fronts. Just give it some thought._

_Smoothies and wall-staring? It's a date, Ms. Shay. Yup, I called it a date. Cringe and deny all you want, I'm still telling everyone that it's a date. Deal with it. Check out my big, cheesy grin! :-D_

_Miss you like crazy, Carls._

_Freddie_

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Fun Fact: Hale Hall is an actual Residence Hall at Tennessee State University! Never been there, but I happily looked it up. **

**I hope everyone is enjoying the story so far! Thank you so much for the support you've shown thus far!**

**Have a fantastic night!**

**Hollaatchyagirl,**

**Phunky**


	6. June 21, 2012

_**June 21, 2012**_

I've only been on the Bushwell Plaza roof for ten minutes before she joins me on the rooftop lawn chairs.

"It's nice to finally get some sunshine!" Carly chirps happily as she flounces on the folding chair next to me and puts up her sandal-clad feet.

I look to her and smile. "Well, after eight days of Seattle rain, we could use it." I lean over the side of the chair and pick up the bottle of Wahoo Punch I brought with me just for her. I toss it her way and she catches it with ease.

"So," I continue, "what did you think of Orientation?"

She opens the bottle. "It was fun! It really got me excited for the fall. And the schedule I managed to make for myself is awesome. No classes before 10 a.m.," she boasts. She takes a sip of her punch and gazes at the clouds.

"That does sound good," I say with an amused tone, "but it doesn't sound nearly as good as no classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays." I give her a cocky smirk as her mouth drops open.

"No way! How did you do that? Better yet, what are you going to do with that free time?"

I shrug. "Dunno. Do homework, work out, mod the iCarly site…endless possibilities, really."

"Endless?" she asks skeptically. "Really?"

I chuckle and turn my gaze to the sky. It's been a while since Seattle has seen such a pretty blue sky. The clouds are so perfectly fluffy and white that they almost look fake.

"Hey," I call softly, keeping my eyes on the clouds. "Do you remember when we would come up here with Sam when we were twelve and debate over what the clouds looked like?"

Carly emitted an easy, floating laugh. "Yes! I remember you and Sam constantly arguing because she always saw meat products where as you only saw robots."

I laughed at the memory. "C'mon, sometimes I saw animals. So…what do you think that cloud is shaped like?" I point to her left and she turns to look in the indicated direction.

Squinting, she guesses "It kind of looks like a duck. A duck wearing sneakers."

Though it sounds preposterous, I totally see where she would get that from.

"Sneakers. Hmm," I muse.

She adjusts herself in the chair and points directly to our right. "What about that one?"

I look in the direction in which she's pointing and regard the cloud. "Try to stay with me on this," I approach carefully, "but that cloud kind of looks like a little furry creature…the head kind of looks like a beaver, the body resembles more of a racoon-"

"THE BEAVCOON?" she cries incredulously, sitting up in her chair. "You think that cloud looks like the _beavcoon_?"

"Hey! These clouds can be anything we want them to be!" I reply indignantly, though I'm fighting to hold in the laughter threatening to bubble from my throat. "In fact, the cloud next to it kind of looks like Spencer chasing after it with a net."

Carly squints her eyes, then nods. "You know, with the sun kind of poking behind it, it looks like the net is on fire."

"As is the fate of most objects that come into contact with Spencer," I joke lightly. Carly responds by reaching over and playfully swatting me in the chest repeatedly, though the smile on her face let's me know that she knows I mean no malice.

"Hey! He's gotten better lately!" she squeals, still attempting to hit me. I catch her hand in order to prevent her from making critical contact.

"What, only two fires this month?" I ask with raised eyebrows.

"Three," she corrects, "but they were really small!"

I laugh boisterously and she joins me after only a moment. It isn't until we both finish laughing that I realize that I'm still holding onto her hand. I expect her to pull it away at any moment, but instead she hesitantly hooks her pinky finger with mine and gently allows are hands to pendulate back and forth between our chairs. We both lean back and I look down at our connected hands as a sudden onslaught of butterflies attack my stomach. Aside from our brief experiment with dating each other, we don't normally show affection this way, no matter how slight.

But I wasn't about to question it. And I damn sure wasn't about to stop it.

"Do you think we'll have time for hanging out like this when we get to Washington State?" Carly asked softly.

I look up at her face. I want to say that her expression is hopeful, but I don't to get my hopes up. I give her a soft smile.

"I'll make time," I answer definitively. She looks at me with a soft expression, then a small smile appears on her beautiful face.

"Me too," she replies, just above a whisper. We maintain eye contact for a moment or two as our hands continue to sway between us. I want nothing more than to kiss her. I HAVE to kiss her, or do something before I explode. There's only a couple feet between us, so if I just lean in, then maybe…

Before I can even move, Carly's eyes jolt a little, as if the spell she was under was suddenly broken. With her mouth slightly agape and her cheeks looking flushed, she pulls back her hand and nervously runs it through her hair just before standing up out of the chair.

"I, uh, better check on, uhh, Spencer!" she sputters. "Yeah, he's sick, so…"

"Oh," I reply, dumbfounded. "Well, um, tell him that I said 'get well soon.' See you at iCarly rehearsal later?"

"Yeah!" she answers, a little too enthusiastically. "Five 'o clock! In the studio!" As if rehearsal hasn't been held in the same place for years.

"Right," I respond halfheartedly. "See you then."

"Later!" She quickly makes her way to the door and disappears down the steps.

I let out a groan as I lean back into my chair and allow my head to hit the back of it with a _thud_. I return my gaze to the clouds above. Maybe they do look a little _too _perfect.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Happy Good Friday/Earth Day! I hope everyone is having an excellent day!**

**Thank you for taking the time to read this chapter. If you get a chance, please review!**

**Hope all is well!**

**Hollaatchyagirl,**

**Phunky**


	7. June 21, 2013

_**June 21, 2013**_

A tub of Ben & Jerry's Cake Batter ice cream, a four-pack of Fuzzy Navel wine coolers, and tear-stained cheeks.

These are the things that meet me at the door of my Pullman apartment when I answered a soft knock at 9:37 P.M.

"Hey!" Carly greets brightly, though her voice betrays her with a noticeable waver.

I give her a sad smile and step forward to engulf her in a hug. This scene has become all too familiar. I've inherited a number of these visits during our first year of college and it's the same thing every time: Carly invests her free time, emotions, and trust in a douche bag who realizes a little to late that Carly Shay will not take on the role of the casual hook-up or one night stand. Then I sit with her until the wee hours of the night as I allow her to cry on my shoulder (literally and figuratively) and she talks about how college boys are the devil how stupid she feels for being so easily swayed by their slick words. She swears off dating, we eat some ice cream, then I give her a pep talk good enough to convince her to overlook me once again and find some other loser who will foolishly cast her aside and send her crying to me months later.

What I will not do is talk about how she should stop wasting her time and just allow me to love her like I've wanted to since we met. I won't point out to her that everything she's been looking for in a guy (trust, sensitivity, loyalty, romance, etc.) are things she could have found in me a long time ago. Nope, I'm not going to confess my love for her for the umpteenth time, because if she doesn't know by now then there isn't really much that I can do, now is there?

And I hate myself for stepping into this role so willingly, mending her heart for someone else while mine is slowly chipping away. If I were smart, I would distance myself and focus on…moving on or becoming asexual or SOMETHING, because _anything_ is better than this. Anything is better than being the human handkerchief for the girl that doesn't love you back. It's these bitter musings that make me hate myself _even more_, because Carly is so much more than the girl who doesn't love me quite like I love her. She's my best friend and she's hurting. I'm supposed to be there for her, personal feelings aside. I know that I shouldn't be selfish at a time like this, even though I may have a bit of a right to be.

Friendship with Carlotta Taylor Shay: a puzzle wrapped in a conundrum, dipped in an enigma, set on fire with personal anguish. How I haven't been driven to drink yet is beyond me.

I let her in, we sit on the couch with our ice cream as she divulges her latest issues. She cracks open a wine cooler, which she claims to have brought to "drink the sorrows away." Current drama aside, I can't help but find her turning to Fuzzy Navels funny. Only Carly could make a potentially problematic vice look somewhat adorable, only made more hilarious by the fact that she couldn't even finish two drinks before becoming lightheaded. I give her my usual talk, reminding her of how beautiful and amazing she is, then I insert my usual joke about us getting married (which is always good for a laugh, apparently) just before it's time to head off to bed. She tries to go home. I insist that she stays for the night, which she tries to refuse. My assertiveness regarding the issue eventually win out and she ends up borrowing a pair of my pajamas and taking my bed while I opt for the futon in the living room. I tuck her in, give her a quick kiss on the forehead, and settle in the living room, quietly reflecting on the reasons why I seem to do this to myself, over and over again.

"Freddie?"

I turn to the soft voice coming from the hallway and find Carly standing there sheepishly.

"I can't really sleep," she explains, and I can tell by her voice that she's been crying again. "Can you talk to me? Not about my drama! Just…I don't know, normal stuff?"

Then I remember why I put up with all of it: because she's my best friend, she's hurting, and I love her. No matter how I feel about it, she needs me.

"Sure," I say, then I scoot over on the futon to make room for her. Carly smiles and lays beside me, crawling under my arm. She wraps her arms around my torso and rests her head on my chest as I hold her, burying my nose into her hair and trailing my fingertips up and down her exposed arm.

"So, apparently, my mom got banned from volunteering at the nursing home this week."

"What?" Carly asked laughingly. "How? Why?"

I bring her in a little closer to me. "Get comfortable and I'll tell you all about it."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thank you all so much for the reviews and positive feedback. I'm sorry that I haven't been so good about responding to everyone personally, but I'm going to try my best to get better at that!**

**Writing this chapter felt a little therapeutic for me. Anyone who has been in Freddie's position knows that it's a tough, painful role to take on and it's full of internal battles and conflicting emotions. I want these stories (any of my stories, really) to be as relatable as possible. What do you guys think?**

**Hope you are all having a great weekend! Have fun and be safe!**

**Hollaatchyagirl,**

**Phunky**


	8. June 21, 2014 and 2015 and 2016 and 2017

_**June 21, 2014**_

The pretty, energetic redhead sitting across from me is named Sydney.

But don't be fooled by the "e" when you say her name. It's not pronounced like the city in Australia, but rather with an -ay sound. So, in reality, it's "Sid-_nay_,"not "Sid-_nee_." She has explained this to me at least twice, and we're only an hour into our date. She goes on to explain how this has been an ongoing problem since she was little, which led to a _hilarious_ (by her definition, no necessarily mine) story about her high school graduation, which, of course, was a segue way into a detailed account of everything she was involved in when she was in high school, followed by an even more detailed account of everything she loves to do now that she's in college. She's paused a few times in order to breath. Once, she complimented my biceps (which was kind of an odd compliment, I'll admit, but flattering, nonetheless), but that mainly prompted her to talk about her incredible (again, strictly by her definition) gym routine. I can probably count the number of words I've actually managed to get in on two hands.

"_She seemed soooo much cuter and less annoying in class_," I think to myself. "_This is a train wreck._"

She pauses again to take a bite of her salad. "So, I've really gotten into this Zumba class at the gym on campus," she rattles on, spearing another piece of lettuce onto her fork, "but it totally conflicts with my yoga class that I've really committed to over the past year."

"Uh huh," I supply, trying to think of something interesting to interject with.

"Do you take any of the classes at the gym?" she asks. I barely recognize the statement as a question, as it is the first thing she's asked me all night.

"Oh!" I exclaim, clearly caught off guard. "Umm, I took a kickboxing class there once-"

"-_Ooooh_, that's a tough one!" she interrupts, her eyes wide. "That reminds me of a class I took last summer!"

As she launches into another story, I fight the groan that is threatening to escape the depths of my chest. It's baffling how many stories this girl has. I'm beginning to wonder if she has a genuine fear of silence, or if she just doesn't trust me to hold a conversation. Either way, she seems perfectly content with carrying on a one-sided conversation while waving around the bit of lettuce that she put on her fork minutes ago. As she continues on with yet another story, my phone vibrates violently inside my front pocket. I discreetly pull it out and check the screen to find the text message icon blinking steadily. I check with Sidney to see if she's noticed, which she apparently hasn't, and I tap the icon to bring up the new message from Carly.

**From: Carly**

**PLZ CALL ME ASAP!  
>NO MATTER WHAT I<br>SAY, DON'T HANG UP!**

**Jun 21, 8:38 pm**

I know it has to be something serious if she's typing in all caps. I'm a little confused, though, because as far as I know Carly was supposed to be on a date, herself. Honestly, if my date were going a little better, I'd probably make Carly wait awhile before actually calling her. But as it stands now…

"…but that's NOTHING compared to the Yoga-lates class I took in L.A.-"

"- Uh, Sydney?" I interrupt, "I have to make a really quick call. I'll be right back, okay?"

"Oh," she says, visibly taken aback. Then she smiles. "Okay, but hurry back! I'm dying to tell you this story!"

"Oh, I bet you are!" I respond with a laugh. Thankfully, she laughs along. I get up and almost sprint to the front entrance of the restaurant. As I step outside, I dial Carly's number, hoping that she's not hurt or in trouble. By the time I reach the outside, Carly picks up.

"Hello?" she answers cheerfully. The tone of her voice does not match the tone of text at all.

"Uh, Carly," I say slowly, "I got your text. Is everything alright?"

"Oh, _hi _Grandad!" she replies excitedly. What? Did she run into her grandfather? I thought he was in Yakima.

"Carly, are you still there?" I ask a little louder.

"I'm here, Grandad, but I can't talk on the phone for long, I'm on a date. I promise to call you back as soon as I'm done, though!"

Wait, she's talking to ME? Has she lost it? And do I sound like an old man? Great, now I'm gonna be self-conscious about my voice.

"Carly, what's going on?"

Then I hear a dramatic gasp over the phone. "Oh, my goodness! What did you say happened to Gram's leg?"

Now I can't tell what's more bizarre: my talkative date or this phone call.

"Okay, Carls -"

"-That's TERRIBLE!" she moans. "Well, I certainly don't want to leave my date, but I just have to see her!"

Ah.

I get it.

The "Date Ditch."

Classic.

"Well, don't keep me and your grandmother waiting, Carlotta," I say wryly.

"Oh, I won't, Grandad!" she replies insistently. "I'll be right there!"

The line goes dead and I'm left staring at my phone, shaking my head. Damn, I wish I had thought of it first. I return to the inside of the restaurant and make my way to the table. As I approach, I see that Sydney has been joined by a seemingly upbeat blonde girl and a tall guy with an unreadable facial expression. Sydney spots me and waves me over excitedly.

"Oh, my God, Freddie! Look who I ran into! This is Callie, my best friend from the dance team I was a part of in high school! The friend I told you about!"

I raise my eyebrows and give what I'm sure is a weak smile. She may very well have told me about Callie, but she's told me about a million other things, as well, and it's getting harder to keep up with all of the details.

"Hi, Callie, I'm Freddie," I greet, extending my hand for a handshake. She takes it delicately.

"Nice to meet you!" she responds brightly, then touches her mail companion's arm. "This is my date, Doug!"

"Hey, man," he says, sounding just as exhausted as I felt. We give each other a sympathetic wave that neither girl seems to pick up on.

"Callie's on a first date, too! Isn't that weird?" Sydney asks, but continues before I can answer. "Hey! Callie, we should tell them the story about the double date we went on Senior year, remember?"

"O-M-G, how can I forget?" Callie squeals while making herself comfortable in the booth next to my date. I look to Doug, who's eyes look pleading, though I can't tell if he's giving me a look that's begging me to stay or warning me to run. The choice, to me, seems easy enough. I can barely handle one Sydney; I think I'd want to leap off of the tallest building if I had to listen to two Sydneys.

"Umm, actually, Sydney, there's kind of a crisis I have to deal with, so I'm afraid I have to cut this date short. I'm so sorry. I better take you home."

"Awwww, but I just got here!" Callie whined, looking over to my sad date. Then she perks up brightly. "Ooh, I know! Doug and I will take you home! Then we can stay here and talk about old times!"

Sydney claps excitedly. "What an awesome idea! You don't mind, do you, Doug?"

I turn to the guy, who looks absolutely defeated. "Nope. I don't mind."

"Yay!" the girls squeal simultaneously. Then Sydney stands from her seat and gives me a polite hug.

"Thanks for dinner, Freddie! I had such a great time!" she says.

"No problem! See you later!" I reply before she can ask for a call or, God forbid, a second date, then I bolt for the hostess' station. I settle the bill and head to my car, the cool night air feeling somewhat enhanced by the sense of escape. I peel out of the parking lot and drive towards my apartment. The silence in my car is so welcoming that I don't even bother to turn on the radio. Ten minutes into the ride, my phone rings. I grab the phone and carefully look down to see that Carly is calling me. Laughing at the memory of her earlier phone call, I pick up.

"Carlotta. Taylor. Shay!"

"I know," she groans. "I know."

"That was quite a mean trick you played on your poor date!" I admonish jokingly.

"Freddie, you don't understand! That had to be the worst date I've ever been on!" she cried pleadingly. "Just to give you a hint: he said he's favorite animal to hunt are rabbits. Who wants to kill cute, innocent bunnies?"

"Elmer Fudd. And, evidently, your date," I answer, though I'm sure the question was rhetorical.

"Whatever. I just had to get out of there. Hey, are you driving? You can't be done with your date already!"

"Actually, I am," I confess. "My date was also a disaster."

"Awww," she placates, "that sucks, Freddie, I'm sorry. Well, why don't you come over? We can have some pie and watch a movie!"

This has kind of become a running tradition between us. One of us would have a crappy date, then we'd meet at one of our apartments and stay up late, eating dessert while a film plays in the background. More often than not, we'd end up cuddling on the couch while talking about how awful the dating scene was in Pullman. Then she'd talk about what she'll be sure to look for in the next guy and I'd review the lessons I learned from the most recent failed date and how I'll avoid those issues on the next date, even though I'm reminded that the last thing I want is to look for someone else.

But I don't want to talk about "the next guy" or "the next girl" anymore. The purpose of dating is to move on, so how is it that we always end up in the same place, with her in my arms while she talks about how she can't wait to meet "Mr. Right?" When I date, it's like taking one step forward. Then, when I'm with her, it's like taking five steps back.

No. I'm not putting myself through that tonight. I'm not putting myself through that anymore.

"Freddie?" she calls, interrupting my train of thought. "Are you still there?"

"Uh, yeah," I answer distractedly.

"Are you coming over?" she asks. I can hear her closing her car door. She must have just arrived at her place.

"No," I can hear myself answer, though the sound is so foreign to me. "No, I'm not coming ."

There's a brief silence over the phone. "Oh," Carly says, sounding surprised. "Oh, okay! Well, do you wanna hang out tomorrow?"

I shake my head, even though I know she can't see me. "Actually, these summer classes are really demanding my time. I shouldn't have even come out tonight, really," I explain. Technically, I'm not lying. The classes this summer have been a little curriculum-heavy, but it would be much easier to make the time to hang out with her than I'm letting on.

"Well, alright," Carly concedes, her voice riddled with sadness. "So, I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"

"Right!" I answer with artificial brightness. "Talk to you later."

"Good night."

As I hang up the phone, I let out the breath I was unknowingly holding in.

"I'm doing the right thing," I tell myself. "Yeah, I'm…I'm doing the right thing."

_**June 21, 2015**_

**Hey, you've reached the voicemail of Freddie Benson. Sorry I missed your call, but leave your name and number and I'll get back to you. Later!**

"_Hey, Freddie, it's me! Just calling to see how you were doing. We haven't had a chance to talk in the past couple months, with us both being in the thick of our majors, but I just wanted to catch up and make sure everything was alright. Give me a call when you can! Miss you! Bye."_

_**June 21, 2016**_

**Hey, you've reached the voicemail of Freddie Benson. Sorry I missed your call, but leave your name and number and I'll get back to you. Later!**

"_Hey, Freddie, it's me, Carly Shay. Remember me? We used to be best friends and now I can't seem to get a moment of your time? Heh. Just kidding, but it really has been a while. I think we've maybe talked four times in the past year, and I'm counting the time that you butt-dialed me during graduation this past April. I was so upset with myself for missing your call last week! I don't know, I just feel like I'm completely disconnected from you these days. Even Sam's heard from you more than I have! Never thought I'd see the day! Heh. Okayokayokay, I'm rambling, but um…I miss you. A lot. Call me back, okay? Okay. Bye, Freddie. Bye."_

_**June 21, 2017**_

**Hey, you've reached the voicemail of Freddie Benson. Sorry I missed your call, but leave your name and number and I'll get back to you. Later!**

"…_(_sigh_)." Click._

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**** This chapter, as well as the following chapter to come, are the chapters that inspired me to write this story and were written in my head well before anything (kind of weird how that happens). I hope you like it, because this chapter has been my favorite to write thus far! **

**Small note: though it's small and seemingly inconsequential, the ending of the second voicemail Carly left ("Bye, Freddie. Bye.") is kind a nod to the novel that this story's concept is based on. Dexter ends a number of voicemails to Emma this way, and it's so heartbreaking because you know that he wants nothing more than to talk to her in that moment and it seems like he's stalling, as if he's hoping she'll pick up the phone any second. I had to include it. READ THE BOOK, PEOPLE! It's a good one.**

**Carl Rahl, would you say that Freddie's beginning to grow a pair? ;o)**

**Have a blessed Easter, everyone! Please don't hesitate to review!**

**Hollaatchyagirl,**

**Phunky  
><strong>


	9. June 21, 2018

**Disclaimer: This chapter is rated T for language. Also, I do not own iCarly, nor One Day by David Nicholls.**

* * *

><p><strong><em>June 21, 2018<em>**

"Let's all give a round of applause to the happy newlyweds, Mr. and Mrs. Spencer William Shay!"

At the DJ's request, the crowd gives a warm applause to the happy couple as they dance and kiss as if they're the only two people left in the world. I've never seen Spencer this happy, and Spencer is a fairly jolly guy. He really found a match in Jamie: she was an eccentric artist with a successful gallery in Tacoma, she was sweet, funny, and had the capability to be serious when Spencer needed someone to keep him grounded. She also had an amazing 5-year-old daughter who adored Spencer to pieces. I couldn't have been more happy for him.

"And now, the couple would like the best man, Fredward Benson, and the Maid-of-Honor and sister of the groom, Carly Shay, to lead the rest of their guests in a dance."

I knew this moment would come, but it still didn't prepare me for actual contact with Carly after almost four years nothing but halfhearted birthday wishes via voicemails and SplashFace messages, and the awkward run-ins during holidays. Sam has reamed me out numerous times for phasing Carly out of my life. Even my mother's had a few things to say about it (and she's not terribly fond of her). I just feel like neither of them, nor anyone else, will understand why I felt like I _had_ to do it. Being around Carly while harboring all of the feelings I had for her was kind of toxic. I'm not saying that _she, _herself_,_ was toxic; far from it, actually. I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Carly meant no true harm by anything that she said or did and I know that she does care for me. I just knew that no matter how hard I tried, I would never want less than all of her. I had to stay away until I knew that I could live with less than that.

It has been the hardest fucking thing I've ever had to do.

And even now, as she's walking towards me in the middle of the dance floor, it just feels like it may be too soon, but I can't avoid her any longer. The rehearsal didn't leave much room for chat, thankfully, and I managed to get out of the rehearsal dinner in order to have dinner with mom. This, however, I could not wiggle out of. This…_she_…was approaching.

And despite everything, she was absolutely beautiful.

We meet in the middle of the floor, just a couple feet away from the Spencer and Jamie. Our eyes lock and an easy smile appears on both of our faces before I nervously place a hand on her waist while the other finds her raised hand.

"Well, well, well," she says in a low tone so that only I can hear her, "he lives."

"Hey, Carly," I greet her kindly. "How've you been?"

She give me a wide eyed look, but doesn't stop swaying to the music. " 'How've you been?' Really, Freddie?" she asks incredulously. "We go from being almost inseparable to barely ten words to each other and the best you can come up with is 'how you've been?'" Though she's flabbergasted, there's still a hint of mirth in her eyes that lets me know that she's still in good spirits.

I give a light chuckle. "What would like me to say, Carly?"

"Hmmmm," she says, pretending to consider the question. "How about, "Hey, I'm sorry that I fell off the face of the planet' or 'I've missed you beyond comprehension, Carly,' for starters."

I laugh and she gives me a giggle that reminds me so much of our teen years. I give her hand a gentle squeeze. "I've definitely missed you, Carly," I tell her. It's true, I did miss her. A lot, actually.

"I've missed you, too," Carly says, barely above a whisper. "So, tell me. What have you been up to?"

"Well," I begin, "I'm getting my Master's in Computer Science at WSU. I'm still on the fence about getting my Doctorate. I've taken up Lacrosse and I'm surprisingly good at it!"

"Nice!" she compliments.

"Thanks," I reply, looking down. "So how about you?"

"Veterinary school," she answers simply. "Not too much else, really."

"Still at WSU?"

"Yeah, still in Pullman," Carly answers. "I'm kind of surprised we haven't run into each other more."

"I guess it's possible-"

"-when you're avoiding someone?" Carly interjects with a raised eyebrow. There really is no fooling Carly Shay, and I wasn't going to try to, but now isn't the time to get into that discussion. I decided to keep silent and just continue dancing. The song changes to another slow ballad. Carly doesn't let go.

"So, is there anyone special in your life?" she asks, and though I can tell that she's trying to keep the conversation light, I can already see how this topic could potentially lead us to dangerous territory. Still, I appease her for the sake of conversation.

"I was with a girl for almost a year," I inform her. "Her name was Raina. She was really great, but she ended up leaving the state for grad school. The distance eventually got to us and, about four months ago, we broke it off."

Her expression turned sullen. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"Meh," I shrug, "it's cool. It just wasn't meant to be." I sight. "How about you?"

She scrunches her nose, then gave a small smile. "Dated here and there, but nothing really stuck," she admitted.

"Oh," is all I can say.

Carly looks up at me. "So, you don't think you could've made it work with Raina?"

It was a question that I had actually asked myself many times after we split. She was great: she was gorgeous, kind, funny…I probably could have made it work with her, if I felt like she was the one, but I knew that she wasn't.

"I don't know," I reply, probably a little untruthfully. "Could you have seen yourself making it work with any of the guys you dated?"

"No," she answers after a moment of hesitation. She's maintaining eye contact, but there's a hint of nerves in her voice.

"Why not?" I press. I didn't think I would be this interested, but I can't stop myself.

At this, her eyes slowly drift downward. "Dunno," she mumbles. "I guess I just never found the right guy."

I could feel the familiar frustration burn in my chest, though my mind was reminding me not to jump to conclusions. Maybe she meant that she never found the right guy out of the general garbage she's dated.

"So you never found the right guy?" I unconsciously give a slight squeeze to her waist.

"No." Her eyes have trouble finding mine.

"Not one? Not a single one since college? High school, even?" I don't know how to be more obvious.

She tries to speak, but her voice gets caught in her throat. "Nope."

And with that, I feel my resolve break. Anger, rejection, heartache, and overpowering confusion cause me to emit a laugh that can only be described as bitter; caustic, even.

"Wow!" I exclaim, and I let go of her and feel myself heading to the nearest door, laughing all the while.

I burst through the door, and I already register that the sunshine that was present earlier in the day is nowhere to be seen. The sky is overcast and the atmosphere feels heavy. It totally matches my mood right now and I resent the theatrics of it all.

"FREDDIE!"

No. Not right now.

"FREDDIE, I KNOW YOU HEAR ME!" I hear frantic foot fall as her voice nears.

"What is it?" I ask dumbly.

"What was that back there?" she asks, pointing back at the reception hall with a bewildered look in her eyes. "What exactly was so funny?"

I hold up my hands. "You wouldn't get it."

"Explain it to me," she demands harshly. "What's so funny? Because I didn't find anything remotely humorous about what I said."

"You know what," I begin, and even I'm frighten by the low timbre of my voice. "You're right. There's nothing funny about this," which I emphasize by pointing back and forth between us, "at all. There's nothing laughable about me allowing myself to look like a complete asshole chasing after you for nearly thirteen years, Carly-"

"Freddie-"

"No, don't 'Freddie' me!" I raise my voice. "THIRTEEN YEARS, Carly, pining after you like an idiot, confessing my love for you countless times, just to be made to feel that in your endless search for love, you seem to have come to the conclusion that my particular brand of love is not good enough for you, for some reason."

"You stop RIGHT THERE, Fredward Benson, I've never, _ever _said that!" she shouts. I can see her face getting red with anger.

Good. Let her feel this for once.

"You've never had to!" I point out to her heatedly. "Just the simple fact that you've constantly chosen to date absolute losers over me speaks volumes."

I'm surprised to hear her version of a bitter laugh, which could give mine a real run for it's money. "Oh, like all of your dates have been prizes!" she scoffs. "Guess who was a stripper at Wendy's husband's bachelor party a year ago? Sydney. You know, the girl you had a date with years back? Yeah, a real fucking Nobel Peace Prize winner you had there!"

"Why do you even care?" I yell, running my hands through my hair. "She wasn't a stripper at the time! Besides, _you didn't want me_! Who cares if I date a million strippers?"

"Because you're so much better than that!"

"Sure, just not quite good enough for the Amazing Carly Shay," I accuse, taking a step closer to her. "Face it, Carly: you can search all you want, but you're not going to find anyone who would treat you the way I do, who could care for and revere you the way I do, who could love you better than I could-"

"DAMMIT, Freddie, don't you think I know that?"

The question totally caught me off guard. _Of course_, I didn't think she knew that. That's 90% of the problem, right?

"Then what's the issue?" I press.

She fixes me with icy eye contact. "Everyone knows that you don't find your true love when you're eleven-years-old, no matter what fairy tale you may have read that in. Dating your best friend never works!"

"Who says?" Where is she getting this from?

"Who says?" she repeats, wide-eyed, as if the question is unworthy of an answer. She appeases me, anyways. "How about my parents, or better yet, yours? Sam's, Gibby's…they all thought they found everlasting love with their supposed best friends and are any of them still together? No! Obviously they had it wrong!"

I don't bother to mask the eye roll that I let slip. This is such an excuse.

"Okay, let me start by saying that Pam Puckett is not the one to turn to for lessons in love or any lessons, period. Sam'll even tell you that," I begin. "Secondly, my mother and father barely liked each other before they even got together, so that's a bad example, as well. As far as your parents go, I am not your father. You are not your mother. You can't base us on them or anyone else."

"And why not?" Carly says, her voice becoming a little hysterical. "Freddie, if we got together and something - anything - happened between us, there could be no repairing that. I could lose you forever and I can't handle that possibility!"

"Carly, when have I ever made you feel I would just leave your life forever, like I could live without you?"

"TRY THE LAST FOUR YEARS!" she explodes.

Alright. She had me there.

"Okay, maybe I made myself scarce, but I had to get over you -"

"BULLSHIT!" she hollers. I can hear the gentle rumble of thunder in the background. Great. More theatrics.

"We were best friends, Freddie, _best friends_. And you threw that away because you resented me, even though I felt like I was protecting us, protecting our friendship! You didn't even give me the opportunity to explain; you just assumed!"

"Protecting us?" I shriek. "You were dragging my heart through the mud!"

"Not intentionally, and only because, ultimately, I didn't want to lose you, no matter how much I may have wanted you! Not that it mattered, because I lost you anyways!" The tears are forming in her eyes just as a drop of rain hits my forehead. Then another drop hits her bare arm. Neither of us head for shelter.

"I've broken down multiple times because you wouldn't talk to me or acknowledge me. I've cried and been downright depressed because I missed you so much. I even went to your mom, who I KNOW hates me, and begged her to get you to talk to me, which didn't work, obviously. You disappeared and ignored my calls, texts, and myriad of messages and we weren't even dating! Yet, you expect me to trust you with my heart? Then you have the nerve to accuse me of being some…some _love snob _who doesn't think your love is good enough for me? Screw you, Benson!"

At the end of her speech, she turns on her heels and heads for the reception hall, leaving me to receive the fresh downpour of icy rain by myself for a moment. Suddenly she turns around and storms back up to me.

"And if you think for one second that I didn't love you, that I don't still love you, and that I'm too stupid to know that no one could ever come close to loving me the way you could, then **that's** what makes you the asshole, Freddie, not the past thirteen years!"

I stand there, shell-shocked for a moment. "Wait," I breath out, "you loved me?"

"Yes! In the end, I always came back to you, didn't I?" she answers, her frustration evident.

"And you still love me?" I ask her to clarify. I need clarification.

"OF COURSE, I DO!" she bellows. "Can't you see how worked up I am over all this? What, do you think I'm in the habit of just passing out 'I love y-'"

I don't need her to finish that thought. I grab her upper arm and yank her roughly to me so that I can crash my lips on hers. I don't need for this kiss to be sexy or storybook perfect or even gentle. I need it to be _clear_. I need her to understand that I love her with every fiber of my being and that it has always been this way, this _intense_. I can feel her trying to pry her self away from me, but this is too urgent for me to allow that just yet, because I don't think she quite gets it. I bury my free hand into her hair, pressing on the back of her head so that her lips are even further pressed upon mine. Her small, clenched fists are beating on my chest and we're so close that I can feel her hot tears falling onto my cheeks, mixing with the ice cold, relentless rain, but I can't let her get away just yet. The hand on her arm moves to her waist, then around her back so that I'm finally holding her and kissing her like I've always wanted to.

Then, miraculously, the struggling stops and she's unclenched her fists, which were previously beating on my chest, only to grab the lapels of my tuxedo coat and pull me even closer to her. Her lips are now moving against mine, almost on their own accord, as she takes control of the kiss. Now I feel like she's trying to convey a message to me that tells me of her love and her need; a message that tells me that I'm not alone in how I feel, that maybe I never was.

And I get it. I _totally_ get it.

She finally breaks away, looking at me with an almost startled expression. I give her a warm smile.

"You retreated," I observe jokingly.

She sputters a laugh. "I needed to breath," she explains. "And to think."

"No," I reply, almost exhausted. "No thinking. That's what got us in trouble in the first place."

She smiles, the raindrops trickling down to the seam of her lips. "I know, I know, I need to get out of my own head, I just-"

"Carly," I interrupt, taking her chin between my thumb and index finger. "I promise you on everything, I will never leave you again. Ever. And I will love you so much more than you can fathom."

Though the rain is heavy, I can still see the fresh tears leaking from her eyes.

"Freddie, I love you. I really do," she says, and I can tell by her eyes that she sincerely means that. "That's why I really, really need us to take this slow. I want us to be sure. I need this to work."

The smile on my face is so big that it almost hurts. "You lead the way, Carls. We'll go as slow as you'd like."

"Good," she says, a smile emerging from her lips. "I think a date is an awesome place to start."

"So," I say in a low voice, wrapping my arms around her waist as she bring hers around my shoulders. "I finally get to take you on the date I've always dreamed of?"

She smirks. "It looks like you do. And I'm finally going to be on the arm of a true prize."

I cup her cheek and place a gentle, chaste kiss on her lips. "That you will be."

She smile against my lips. "Cocky," she teases me.

"Head case," I retort, sporting my own smile just before kissing her once again, this one much longer than the last.

Kissing in the rain. Oh, the theatrics. How I love them.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I take back what I said in the previous chapter. This was my favorite chapter to write. Again, I've had this chapter written in my head long before the rest of the story. It's the longest so far because I wanted to catch every possible moment. This part of their life is so crucial.**

**You may ask why Socko is not Spencer's best man. For some reason, I imagined him in jail during this time. Like, Spencer had new-found maturity with his relationship with Jamie and his absence in Socko's life left him without the one person that kept him from doing anything too shady. Not really an important piece to this story, but some might wonder.**

**I really hope you like this chapter! Please review and let me know what you think! The reviews I've received have been AWESOME! Some of them have even opened up lines for healthy discussion and opinions and I LOVE THAT! You guys are amazing. :o)**

**I hope you all have a wonderful day!**

**Hollaatchyagirl,**

**Phunky**

**P.S. - on a completely non-related note: I hope some of you caught "The Voice" on NBC tonight! Awesome show! Go Team Adam (Levine)!**


	10. June 21, 2019

_**June 21, 2019**_

"Why do airports have to be so exhausting?" Carly mumbles into my shoulder just before she tries to stifle her third yawn of the last ten minutes. She tucks her legs under her body in an effort to make herself as comfortable as possible, though I find that the hard plastic that the chairs are made with are making comfort almost an impossibility.

We're currently in the waiting area at Gate G8, where Carly will eventually board her flight to Dallas, Texas. I can't remember the last time I was awake at 5 a.m., but I have to say that the only two people in the world I would wake up for at this ungodly hour would be my mother and my girlfriend. Why did this have to be the only plausible flight for her to catch?

"I don't know, Carls, but you'll have plenty of time to rest up on the flight," I remind her as I lightly stroke her hair.

She buries her face in the crook of my neck and plants a light kiss there. "Doubtful," she replies. "I'm sure that I'll be too busy focusing on missing you or not dying to get any sleep. Besides, haven't you been on a plane before? My eardrums usually pop to the point of unbearable pain. I won't be able to sleep through that."

She must have forgot who she was dating. Doesn't she realize that I always think of everything?

"Look in the left side pocket of your travel bag," I instruct her. She lifts her head and gives me a curious look. I simply raise my eyebrows and wait for her to do as I say. With a small smile, she removes her legs from under her and sits up in order to lean over to her bag. Once she unzips the pocket and peeks inside, she looks back at me while pulling out a small box.

"Air pressure regulation ear plugs," I explain, though she didn't ask. "Those should make it a little easier to relax. Once you're up in the air it shouldn't be too much of a problem."

She smiles and shakes her head. "I should have known you'd do something sweet like this." Carly places both of her hands on either side of my face and gently pulls me in for a soft lingering kiss. It's a good thing I'm sitting or else I'm sure that my knees would have given out. How does she get her lips to be this soft?

She pulls away a little too soon and touches her forehead to mine. "I'm going to miss you so, so much. God, I can't even remember the last time I went to sleep without you by my side."

When I think about it, I can't either. We've been going back and forth between our apartments the last couple of months. I can't tell you when we fell into the routine of sleeping together, but I can tell you that I've had a hell of a time trying to fall asleep without her ever since. Still, the last thing she needs is for me to make a bigger deal out of this than needed.

"Baby, it's only nine days. You'll be back before you know it." I lift my head just enough to kiss her on the tip of her nose, then I return my forehead to hers.

"I hope so. The last Shay family reunion was excruciating."

"Well, you know you can call me anytime. My phone will practically be attached to me until you get back."

She looks up at me and gives me a small smile. "Are you sure I can't sneak you into my travel bag somehow?"

I've already thought of that, too.

I lean in so that I can whisper in her ear. 'Check the right pocket."

Her smile grows as she turns excitedly to her bag and unzips the right pocket. She reaches in and pulls out the picture I took of me sleeping…quite the difficult picture to take, but it was totally worth the beautiful, tinkering laugh she's giving me right this moment.

"Aww, babe, now I don't have to sleep without you!" she cries.

"Exactly," I confirm with a big grin. She presses a firm kiss to my lips. I pull her into my lap as she plants little kisses on my top and bottom lip. Damn, I'm really going to miss this woman.

I pull back, so that I can look into her eyes. Before I can say anything, there's an announcement over the gate's P.A. system for Carly's section to start boarding the aircraft. Her expression falls and I can feel her cling to my shoulders just a little tighter before eventually standing on her feet. I stand and pick up her travel bag for her as we walk to join the line. She turns to me with a hopeful look.

"Only nine days, right?" she asks, her voice small.

"It'll be a breeze," I say confidently. "Though, just for the record, I'm going to miss you like crazy, Carls. Call me as soon as you land, alright?"

"I will, I promise." She stands on her toes and gives me one last kiss before she takes her bag from my hands. "I love you, Freddie."

"Love you, too, sweetie. Have fun, alright?"

She gives me a soft smile before approaching the attendant checking the boarding passes. I watch her give the woman her pass to tear in half. Carly takes her portion and walks toward the gate. She looks back and blows me a kiss. I mouth "I love you" in return as she disappears onto the ramp. I exhale and remain rooted to the spot as I wait to see the plane take-off. "It's just nine days," I tell myself. "Just nine days."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: This chapter would have gone up a little sooner, but President Obama's announcement totally trumped me posting this chapter. Major shout out to our troops overseas! Your service is appreciated! :o)**

**My apologies for taking so long to post a new ficlet! I attribute that to writer's block and I'm very thankful that I got through it. There are about six ficlets left in this series and I know how each of those are going to be written, but I didn't want to rush to them just yet. Now I feel like I can move on.**

**Lastly, I want to thank all of you for the TREMENDOUS response to the last chapter! I hope you all enjoy the rest of the story! Please continue to review and let me know what you think!**

**Hollaatchyagirl,**

**Phunky**


	11. June 21, 2020 Almost

_**June 20, 2020**_

_**10:47 p.m.**_

I'm baffled by how an idea can drastically change from a seemingly amazing one to an awful one in a matter of moments. I'm usually the man that thinks of everything, so how did I incur such a glaringly obvious oversight? More importantly, why wasn't anyone around to warn me that my idea was, in fact, bad?

When I bought the ring I had considered it a mere formality. I would slip the diamond on her finger on our two-year anniversary and we would begin planning the ceremony of her dreams…and it would have to be modeled after her dreams, because all my dream entailed was for her to finally have my last name, no matter how that came about. We'd exchange vows, kiss as husband and wife, and continue our lives as the Bensons. When I began putting money aside for the ring it had seemed simple enough. It wasn't until well after I had purchased the ring, while I was gazing at it in the privacy of my own apartment, when I realized that I had overlooked a vital aspect of all this:

I would have to ask her if wanted to marry me in the first place. More importantly, she would have to say "yes." Honestly, how did I forget that?

Maybe because, in my mind, it's quite simple. I want to spend the rest of my life with her and have made that painfully obvious since we were twelve. For me, there's nothing to consider or mull over: Carly Shay is the one I _need _to grow old with. Period.

The problem is that I can't help but think about how Carly needed to be persuaded to be with me. I know she says that she's always loved me, and I totally believe her, but I still can't stop the old insecurities from cropping up. Do I love her more than she loves me? Am I moving too fast? Is marriage even something that she wants?

Another thing that worries me is that, while I don't doubt that I make her happy right now, Carly's never brought up the subject of "forever." Not once. It wasn't anything that worried me before because, in my mind, there was no question that she would be in my life until the end, hence why I probably never felt a need to bring it up. It was so obvious to me. It wasn't until I heard stories from Spencer and Shane about how their wives made it clear that they wanted to get married, or how they just "knew." I thought I knew, but now as I sit here, less than two weeks from the day that I'm supposed to propose, I just don't know. I don't know what she's thinking and it frightens the hell out of me. In an instant I've returned to the same, insecure boy I was at sixteen. And I hate it. I hate _him_.

So at this moment, I'm trying to drown 16-year-old Freddie at the bar around the corner, one beer at a time. As I nurse my second beer, I'm thankful that McDougan's is a short walk from my apartment, especially as I contemplate getting a third beer. I can hear my phone chiming Carly's designated ringtone and my stomach instantly flips. With everything weighing on my mind today and the ring growing heavier and heavier in my jeans pocket, I've managed to, uhhh, "miss" every one of her calls. I resolve that I'll call her back tonight, when I've had time to unwind and quell all of these nerves and doubts. I don't want to scare her; I just need time to myself to think.

The bartender approaches as he wipes down the counter. "How's that beer treatin' you?"

"Good, Brick, thanks," I answer as I observe how the glass is getting shallower and shallower.

"You think you'll be getting a third?" he asks.

"That depends on whether or not he plans on crawling home," says a familiar voice from behind me. I don't have to turn around to know that it's Carly, but I do anyways. She's standing there with her arms crossed over her chest and her phone in her hand. She doesn't look upset, but more amused or concerned. I give her a weak smile.

"You know," she begins, approaching me and easing into the stool next to mine, "if you're trying to hide, maybe you should try going a little further than a few paces from your apartment."

"I wasn't hiding," I answer defiantly, though deep down I know that I kind of was.

She gives me a small, sad smile. "Maybe not well, but you were hiding, Benson."

I duck my head and Brick the Bartender asks Carly for her drink order.

"Rum Runner, please," she asks politely, which takes me by surprise as she is not a big drinker at all. She notes my shock and shrugs. "By the looks of it, I have some catching up to do."

My smirk is met with her tell-tale concerned expression. I know she's dying to ask me something, but she holds back until she gets her drink, of which she takes a big, long swig before setting the drink down a little harder than necessary.

"Freddie, are you planning on breaking up with me?" she asks in such a rush that I almost miss the question entirely.

"NO!" I practically shout. My God, that's the LAST thing I want her to think!

"Well, you've been acting strange all week, you've barely looked me in the eyes and you've been avoiding my calls all day - DON'T deny it!" she says pointedly, cutting me off before I even have the chance to plead my case. I didn't think I was being that obvious.

"Freddie, I hate to sound so insecure, but the last time you stops taking my calls…we didn't speak for four years." She says the last part almost into her glass before taking another sip. Even with a cocktail in her hand, she still looks like the scared teen I grew up with. The fact that I brought her back to that point, that I'm responsible for making her this scared, kills me.

I grab her hands and kiss both of her palms reverently. "Carly, I could never break up with you, ever. If anything, I'm scared shitless of you ever leaving me."

She looks up at me expectantly, as if she's waiting for me to elaborate.

"Do I make you happy?" I ask. "Be honest."

"Of course!" she cries with wide eyes.

"Because I need to know that I make you happy, Carly. Seriously."

"Freddie, look at me."

I slowly look up and my eyes meet hers, which are determined and unwavering. "I challenge anyone to find anything or anyone else that makes me as happy as you do. Nobody makes me feel as loved and as cherished as you do, Freddie, and I only hope that I make you feel the same way. Does that sound like I'm happy to you?"

A slow smile spreads across my face all on its own. She smirks in response. My girl loves me and is happy. For right now that's all I need.

Then she leans over and gives me a kiss so soft, yet so passionate, that it literally wipes all thoughts from my mind. The kiss takes a life of its own and suddenly, I need more. Much more. I pull away so that I can let her see how much I want her.

"Let's go home," I suggest in a low voice.

"Let's run," she responds, pulling out a bill for her drink and slapping it on the bar. I do the same and make a beeline for my apartment. We arrive in mere moments and she leaps into my arms before I'm even able to open the door all the way. I clumsily get us into the apartment and we barely make it to the bed before we already begin to get lost into each other.

* * *

><p><strong><em>June 21, 2020<em>**

**_1:08 a.m_**.

Her beauty continues to amaze me after all these years. Even when she's completely stripped of her make-up, her jewelry, and her stylish clothing, she is still, hands down, the most beautiful woman in the world. As she is now, there's nothing to marvel but skin, curves, lips, and shining eyes, and I'm devoid of any breath left in my body. The overpowering lust that fueled us hours ago is gone and all that's left is love; this drowning, heart-stopping love that renders me entirely speechless. All that's left between us this feeling, paired with the high I feel whenever we lay skin-against-skin, and I'm compelled to say something…right, something deserving of this moment, but somehow I feel like "I love you" is just not enough. Not for this. Not for her. I'm looking into her eyes now and gently stroking her cheek and I'm searching deep for the right words and I hope that I'm able to come up with something.

Thankfully, I don't have to.

And with a smile and the cutest bite of her bottom lip, Carly gently touches her lips to mine , then looks at me softly.

"Marry me, Freddie. Be my forever."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Hey, all! This ficlet was inspired by two separate ideas. The first being the Epilogue of my story, iHit the Open Road. (If you haven't read it yet, I hope you find an opportunity to read it!) The second idea actually came from Mr. Carl Rahl, who suggested that I write something where Carly proposes to Freddie. I didn't use it in my last story, but I thought it would be perfect for this one. Thanks, Carl!**

**Also, I've received a lot of messages from you guys about being interested in reading One Day, but wanting to wait until I finish this story so that nothing is revealed too early. I just wanted to clarify that the actual events of this fan fic DO NOT reflect the events in the actual novel! You can read the book now and it will not hint what will happen in this story in the slightest. Go ahead and read the book! If you do, feel free to tell me what you think of it. :o)**

**I cannot express how grateful I am for the support you have all shown! I appreciate it so much!**

**Hope all is well! Review, if you wish!**

**Hollaatchyagirl,**

**Phunky**


	12. June 21, 2022

_**June 21, 2022**_

"This house is awesome. Good choice, my man!" Gibby praises as he follows me with one of mine and Carly's many boxes.

"Thanks, Gib," I reply as I set a crate full of Blu-Rays down in the middle of the empty living room. The echo that reverberates throughout the house as I set the crate down on the hardwood floors is a little intimidating, for a number of reasons. How are we supposed to make this big place feel like home? Carly's even admitted to finding the task of decorating a little daunting and I'm getting exhausted at the mere thought of having to settle in.

Still, the thought of putting together the first real house that I share with my wife is really exciting.

"I can't believe you guys managed to find such a spacious house at a decent price!" Gibby says, amazed. "Tasha and I love our place, but we could definitely use another room or two; one for her purses and another that I can turn into a man cave or something."

I smirk. "A man cave, Gibby? Aren't we a little old for such ideas?"

"Never," he deadpans.

I laugh and the sound bounces off of the walls. "Whatever you say, bro."

"But seriously," he continues, "three bedrooms? What possessed you to get something so big now?"

"The price was just too good to pass up at the time," I explain. When Carly and I first started searching months ago, we had set the bar kind of low. There were plenty of two-bedroom homes that were a little cheaper (which Carly originally wanted, for she insisted that we have a guest room), but we stumbled upon this house, with its spacious backyard and neighboring pond, and Carly instantly fell in love with it. I couldn't resist getting the place for her and we were able to talk the seller down to a fairly reasonable price.

"And you can never have too much space," I add as I open up the blinds to allow the sunlight to flood the room.

"Agreed," Gibby nods. "So, what do you plan on doing with the extra rooms? Thinking of turning one of them into an office - oooh! How 'bout a game room? Yeah?"

I can't deny that I've had that thought once or twice, but we've since stumbled upon better uses for one of the rooms.

* * *

><p><em>Two weeks ago…<em>

_Boardman's Furniture Warehouse was overwhelmingly large, and Carly and I had no clue what we were looking for. Neither of us had really discussed a central design scheme we wanted to attempt when furnishing the house, which we soon realized was a bad idea._

"_What about the black leather set?" I asked, pointing to a display just ahead._

_Carly scrunched her nose in disapproval and shook her head. "No, it seems so… _bachelor pad-y_," she said. "Besides, the living room set we have now isn't that bad, aside from the old loveseat. We should probably keep our focus on a new bed for our room and furniture for one of the spare rooms -"_

"_I know, I know," I interrupted, prepared for the same discussion we've had since we closed the deal on the house, "we really should turn at least one of the rooms into a guest room, I totally get that, but hear me out." I placed my hands on her shoulders so that she could face me squarely. "What if I turned the third room into an office-slash-multimedia room?"_

"_You mean 'game room?'" she countered with a raised eyebrow. _

"_Not necessarily. Before you say no," I pushed, spotting her resistance early, "think about it. It would benefit us both because I would have a space where I could centralize all of my electronics …and sure, play my co-op games, without bugging you and the rest of the house would be your domain."_

"_Freddie, I don't think that's the best idea."_

"_Come _ooooon_," I groaned, fully aware of how immature I sounded at the moment. "We'd still have a guest room and you could totally use the multimedia room whenever you need it."_

_Carly closed her eyes and quickly turned her head to the floor. "Baby, we can't have a guest room _and_ a game room right now." _

"_Multimedia room," I corrected. "and why not? We have more than enough space-"_

"_I'm pregnant."_

_It felt like someone had sucked all of the air out of my body and stopped my heart completely. A small smile played on her face and she cleared her throat._

"_So," she continued, "we may want to put the, uhh, 'multimedia room' on hold, just for now…not that it's not an awesome idea or anything, just…"_

_I was stunned speechless. Well, almost speechless. "How? N-no, I mean, I know _how_, but…when?"_

"_Just after we closed on the house," she revealed. "I know I told you that I thought I had a stomach bug, but I just said that to avoid freaking you out in case I wasn't actually pregnant. Dr. Suarez says I'm about five weeks along."_

_I was still shocked to silence, which caused Carly to begin to worry. She stepped forward and took my hand as she spoke in a low voice. "Look, I know we said that we'd wait at least a year or two after we got married and use that time to travel and just focus on us and we haven't even been married a full year yet, but…"_

_I'm not sure if she trailed off or if I just zoned out, but suddenly I couldn't absorb anything that anyone was saying. All I could do was stare at the stunning woman who was not only my wife, but the mother of my unborn child. I could only feel one thing._

_Happiness. Blinding, staggering, unadulterated happiness. _

_Without thinking, I grabbed her face and planted a firm, almost bruising kiss on her lips before I wrapped my arms around her waist and lifted her into the air, spinning her in dizzying circles._

"_WE'RE HAVING A BABY!" I shouted, not caring who heard me. "WE CAN'T HAVE A GAME ROOM BECAUSE WE'RE HAVING A BABY, INSTEAD!"_

_I could hear Carly laughing above me. "Freddie! We're causing a scene! C'mon, put me down!"_

_I placed her on her feet and kept her wrapped closely in my arms. The smile on my face could split my cheeks. "We're really going to have a baby? You and me?"_

_She nodded. "So, you're not upset?"_

"_Upset?" I echoed. I couldn't believe she would think I would consider this upsetting news. "This may not have been exactly what we planned, but this is still the best news I've ever heard. Carls…we're going to be parents!"_

_She choked out a giggle and I could see the tears forming in her eyes. "Freddie, I'm going to be a mom!"_

"_I'm gonna be a dad! We're going to have a guest room and a nursery, which is _so much better _than a game room."_

_Carly tipped her head back and laughed. "Oh, now it's a game room, is it?"  
><em>

_I shrugged, still smiling wide. "Let's head to the children's section! We need a crib, a changing table, a rocking chair for the gorgeous mother -"_

"_Babe! BABE!" Carly interrupted, effectively halting my rambling. "Why don't we wait a couple months when we find out the sex of the baby. Then we can start shopping for the nursery."_

_I gave the idea some thought, then I simply answered "no" before dragging my giggling wife to the children's section of the warehouse._

* * *

><p>We decided that day to wait to break the news to everyone at the housewarming party in a week, which has been especially hard for me. I've had to keep my excitement in check every time I came around Gibby or Sam, but I've managed to do so, for Carly's sake. Besides, It's nice to have something just between her and I for a while.<p>

"I'm sure we'll find something to do with the extra space," I reply to Gibby as I head to the truck to grab another box.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I hope everyone is having an excellent Saturday! I just wanted to post a new one-shot before I headed out for the day. I hope you found it enjoyable! Don't be afraid to give me a shout and I hope you all have a great weekend!  
><strong>

**Hollaatchyagirl,**

**Phunky**


	13. June 21, 2023

**Disclaimer: iDon't own iCarly.**

* * *

><p><em><strong>June 21, 2023<strong>_

I'm trying my best to remain calm as I hold Freddie Jr. in my arms, but Carly is making it very difficult, almost impossible.

"Carly, I'm not about to have this argument with you the entire morning!" I say through gritted teeth. She follows me all the way from the bathroom to the baby's room, remaining completely relentless.

"This doesn't have to continue if you don't want it to," she says, crossing her arms over her chest. "Just agree to fire her and it'll be over with!"

I groan loudly and roll my eyes, just to express how over this topic I am. This has been an ongoing issue since I arrived home from work last Thursday evening. It is now Wednesday morning and the situation has reached a ridiculously melodramatic apex.

"Carly, for the hundredth time, I. Can't. Fire. Patrice. I don't have that authority!" I explain as I gently place our cooing son on the changing table. His oblivious happiness is such a stark contrast against what's actually happening around him that I feel a little guilty for allowing this negativity to continue in his presence. Still, I had to put an end to this, for lack of a better term, utter insanity.

"That's bullsh- crap," she spat cautiously, eying Freddie Jr. "You know that a simple suggestion from you would hold some weight with your boss."

"Patrice hasn't done anything that would warrant me asking for her dismissal and you know that."

"I'm not so sure about that, Freddie," she counters, stepping closer to the table so that she's in my peripheral vision. I continue to focus on the baby, prepping him for his fresh diaper. "Isn't overt flirtation kind of like sexual harassment? It's so obvious that she still wants you!"

"Carly, you can't be serious!" I can see Freddie Jr. perk up at the sound of my raising voice. With a soft exhale of my breath, I lower my voice to a fierce whisper. "Patrice and I had two so-so dates when we were sixteen and a more-than-awkward blind date during the summer after our freshman year of college. That was over a decade ago and I hadn't seen her since until just recently, so where exactly would all of this residual lust come from?"

My wife rolls her eyes, as if the answer to that should be the most obvious thing in the world. "Oh, don't be so naïve! I'm sure she set her sights on you the minute she saw you. How else would you explain her hitting on you yesterday with me standing _right there_?"

"She didn't hit on me, Carly! Stop being so dramatic!" Patrice didn't make an obvious pass at me…though if I was being truthful, Patrice has moments when she's a little…over-familiar, if I had to call it anything. When she compliments a particular suit or a shirt, she tends to let her hand linger on the fabric a second longer than most people would. And I'll admit: she does smile at me. A lot. Still, does that with a number of men at the company and if I don't reciprocate or give it any additional attention, then where is the real threat? Instead of voicing this, though, I secure the diaper on my son and grab one of the folded shirts from the shelf underneath the table.

Carly groans, then speaks. "Okay, how about this: what if I hired Adam or Greg as my assistant in the clinic? Are you telling me that you'd be completely cool with that?" I can't believe that she would bring up a guy who we haven't spoken to since we were sixteen and a random date she had at WSU.

I slip the shirt on Freddie Jr. and start to work on his pants, being sure to keep my hands gentle while my frustration started to truly flare. "Are you telling me that Adam and Greg are qualified vet assistants? Doubtful. Furthermore, even if you hired both of them to hand feed you your lunch everyday it wouldn't matter, and you know why?"

I slip the pants on him, then turn to my fuming wife and finally establish icy eye contact with her. "Because I trust you enough to know that no amount of flirting would influence you to cheat on me. So let's just be real for a moment and admit that this is about you, for some crazy reason, not trusting me and -"

"NO, Freddie, this is about respect!" Carly cuts in, allowing her voice to raise above indoor level. "Patrice doesn't respect the fact that you are my husband and you're too much of a blind moron to see that!"

I stare at her, stunned. How did we arrive to a point where we could take personal jabs at each other? Fine. Two can play that game.

"Well, _excuse me_ if this _blind moron_ is the only one in the room who can see that there's no visible threat here. And yes, I totally include the drooling infant in that count, because it's obvious that the _jealous psycho_ in front of me still wants to create a problem that isn't there!"

It's her turn to be stunned now. I don't feel proud, but I'm not about to just stand here and let her insult me for no reason at all.

After a moment of silent staring, her expression changes from stunned to calm. "Fine," she states plainly. "Why don't I just give Griffin a call and see if he's available for lunch today? It's been a while since we saw each other and I think we're long overdue for a little catch-up session. How does that sound, Freddie?"

I maintain my stare and quirk my eyebrows. "That sounds lovely, Carly." I then move to pick up our gurgling son. "Sometime during your intimate luncheon, might I suggest that you take a moment to show him pictures of _our _son?"

I walk past her towards the door, then turn back. Carly's face is stony, yet her bottom lips looks to be quivering, when I look much closer. "I'm going to take Fred to Spencer's, then I'm heading to work. We'll end this once and for all when I get home." Before allowing her to respond, I turn around and head straight for the door, grabbing the baby bag and tiny baby sandals by the door. I slam the door a little harder than necessary and head to the SUV in the driveway.

"I'm sorry you had to witness that, buddy," I apologize softly to my son, who remains blissfully obtuse. "Your mommy is just completely off her rocker this morning." The door pops open and I secure the wiggling baby into his car seat before making my way to the driver's seat. I'm still angry as I pull off and start the short drive to Spencer and Jamie's house. "Fred, I love your mother, but when she gets like this, she's just hard to deal with. I can't believe that after all these years she would think that some flighty woman with boundary issues would be enough to come between what your mother and I have built! It's just…insane."

I look in the rear-view mirror and catch a glimpse of my son, who is busy chewing on the ear of a teddy bear he's located in the back seat. He really does have his mother's big, beautiful eyes. Dammit, his adorableness is chipping away at my anger.

"You know you're not playing fair, don't you?" I say to him. He responds with a gleeful giggle, and I can't help but laugh along. Carly and I really did create one hell of a kid. At the end of the day, that should be the only thing that matters, right? She may have been overreacting a little bit, but I shouldn't have played into it by stooping down to that level. In all honesty, I can't blame her for feeling disrespected by Patrice. I just wish she could understand that I'm really not in any position to fire her, nor has she presented any real reason for her to be fired in the first place.

I also wish Carly understood that Patrice, or any woman, could never really hold a candle to her. Period.

Great. Why couldn't I have said any of this just four minutes ago?

"Son, your dad's an idiot," I sigh, glancing in the rear-view mirror. I'm not delusional enough to think that my six-month-old infant is giving me a sympathetic look, but his expression could be easily confused as such.

"Obviously, your mom can have her lapses in judgment, as well. I promise, this morning isn't a glimpse of the best we have to offer, parenting-wise. We're still gonna do a really awesome job with you, okay?"

Freddie Jr. coos unintelligibly as we pull into the Shay's driveway. I drop the baby off, have a quick chat with Jamie, wishing her and Spencer a happy anniversary (Carly and I have agreed to watch their kids that evening so that they can celebrate properly), then head back to the car, where I realize that I've left my briefcase at the house. I curse to myself and make my way back home. When I arrive, I'm surprised to see Carly's car still parked in the driveway. She should have left right after I did. I exit the car and walk briskly to the house. When I enter, I immediately spot Carly sitting on the couch in her lab coat and skirt, quickly wiping away tears. Any lingering anger I may have had instantly dissipates and I quickly make my way to her, kneeling in front of her.

"Baby, please don't cry," I plead gently.

"Freddie, I was so stupid!" she blurts, sniffling and quickly wiping away fresh tears. "I know you'd never cheat on me. I just hate that that woman would even entertain the thought of putting her hands on you _knowing _that you're my husband, you know?"

"I know, and I get that, trust me. I would kill any man who even smiled at you with less-than-honorable intentions," I assure her, "but you know that you and Freddie Jr. are my whole entire world, right? I wouldn't let anyone or anything jeopardize that."

Carly nods her understanding. "I know that." She let's out a strangled, brief chuckle. "You know, the only thing I kept thinking as soon as you left is, 'God, what if something happened to him on his way to work and my last words to my husband were a threat to spend time with some other guy?'" She shook her head and tried to say something else, but a fresh round of sobs prevented her from speaking. I quickly sat on the couch next to her and scooped her up into my arms, letting her cry on my shoulder and rocking her back and forth. I hated seeing her like this. Having Patrice as my assistant was not worth any of this strife.

"It's alright, babe, it's done with," I say to her softly. "I'll see if my boss can transfer her to another department or something. I love you so much, Carls."

"No, Freddie, you don't have to do that," she replies, her words muffled by my clothing. She lifts her head to look at me. "I totally trust you and it was stupid for me to feel threatened. I know you love me and Fred more than anything. I just love you so much that sometimes I get a little crazy. I don't know what I'd do if I lost you for any reason."

Her words, as well as her eyes, are so sincere that I can literally feel my heart expand. I pull her in for a gentle, yet passionate kiss, putting behind all of the arguing from the past week and showing her just how much I love her. As I pull away, I see her truly smile for the first time since I told her about Patrice. Then I get an idea.

"Let's play hooky today," I suggest. "We could both use a day off. Let's just stay in, make love, eat carbs, and watch movies all day."

Carly looks at me curiously. "And what am I suppose to do about all the appointments I have today?"

I shrug. "You have vet assistants who can see them, right? The clinic can run without Dr. Carly Benson for just one day, trust me."

She bites the corner of her lip, then a smile slowly spreads across her face.

"Okay…but what about all the work _you_ have to do? What about all your clients?"

I smile, kiss her once again, then I tell her that I'll have Patrice tell anyone who calls that I'm at home, taking care of _my wife_. Then I spend the entire day doing just that.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: This was a long one! I hope you all enjoyed it! I would have posted this sooner, but the site decided to have issues. Ah, well. **

**Hope you're all doing fabulously! Review, if you have a chance! Thanks to all those who have reviewed thus far! I totally appreciate it. **

**Have a great day!**

**Hollaatchyagirl,**

**Phunky**


	14. June 21, 2034

**_June 21, 2034_**

"Hey, dad."

I turn from the fridge and find Freddie Jr. making his way to the island in the kitchen. The look on his face is a perfect example of how all Benson men wear their emotions right on their sleeve; there's no guess work needed to find out what we're feeling. Right now, my son is obviously upset about something. He takes a seat on the stool at the island and immediately props his head on his elbow.

"Hey, there, buddy," I greet cautiously, trying to decide between pressing him for information and letting him come to me naturally. At age eleven Fred has already discovered angst. I don't remember Carly or myself being this…_emotional_ at that age, but then again, perspective makes a difference, I guess. These angst-y moments don't occur often, but when they do I tend to forget that I'm dealing with an eleven-year-old, not a pubescent teen. This instance was no different.

More importantly, everything about his current stance and expression says that this episode is about a girl. I can feel it.

"Rough day?" I ask. He shrugs in response, which is as good as a "yes." I give him a small smile and turn to the overheard cupboard next to the fridge, pulling out two glass tumblers. I set them in front of the pouting boy and go back to the fridge so I can pull out the perfect accompaniment to these father/son heart-to-hearts: chocolate milk. After I pour myself half a glass, I pour him the same amount, then look to him for approval. Fred looks at me with quirked eyebrows, then silently gives me a signal to pour him more until there's a full glass. Wow, this must be a real doozy.

"Alright," I say encouragingly. "Wanna talk about it?"

Fred takes sip of the milk, then sets the glass down on the counter.

"I think I'm in love, dad," he says. Even though I knew the issue was girl-related, actually hearing it from my eleven-year-old still take me aback. Suddenly, I'm struck by how much he looks like I did in that age. Though he has his mother's eyes and button nose, everything else, even down to his spiky hair, is a replica of me. And just like his father, he believes he's found love at a very young age.

"I can see why that would be depressing," I say with a smirk.

"Her name is Trista Barnes," he continues, ignoring my joke. "She's really pretty and super nice and always smells like sunscreen, so she reminds me of the beach."

I smile at my son's adoring description. "Is she at your day camp?"

Fred nods. "We're going on our trip to the zoo on Friday and I really want her to be in my group, so I thought I'd tell her that I love her before then so that she'd want to hang out with me. I told one of the counselors, Cindy, that I was in love and she said that I'm too young to know what love is, so I can't really be in love. But that's not true, right?" he asks with hopeful eyes. "Uncle Gibby says that you fell in love with mom when you were my age, so it can happen, can't it? Didn't you know you loved mom when you were eleven?"

I took a sip of my milk, then gave a slight nod. "Kind of, yeah."

Freddie Jr. looked confused. "Kind of?"

"Son," I begin, knowing that the conversation was going to get a little more complicated, "Love has many different definitions to many different people. Throughout your life, your personal definition of love is going to change often. When I was your age, my definition of love included wanting to hang out with that person all the time, feeling a need to defend them, and wanting to go to the movies with them, maybe even hold hands. At that time, I only wanted those things with your mother."

Fred nodded his understanding, and I continued. "Now, to other people, older people, my definition may have seemed a little immature, but to me it was the realest thing I've ever felt. Now, your definition right now may be wanting to spend quality time with them, whether it be at camp or at the zoo, and wanting to make them laugh and eat ice cream together."

"And play video games with them," Fred added. "I'd even let Trista win, and I don't even do that for my own sister!"

It's true, he can be quite competitive with Kailynn and rarely shows mercy towards her, even though she's only seven.

"Wow," I marvel, eyes wide. "You must really be into this girl!"

"I am," he confirms sadly. "But Cindy says-"

"Cindy doesn't have the right to tell you that your views on love are wrong, nor does anyone else," I interject firmly. "She may be one of your counselors and you absolutely have to respect her, but that doesn't give her the right to impose her opinions of what love is on you. That's for you to decide and you, alone."

The boy looks like he's really thinking about what I'm saying, then he looks up at me with questioning eyes. "So, when did your definition of love change?"

I smiled as I remembered the moment when my feelings grew even deeper. "When I was fifteen. Your mother, Aunt Sam, and I were taping something in our neighborhood for our webshow and while your mom was crossing the road, she was very close to getting hit by a taco truck. I ended up pushing your mother out of the way and taking the hit for her."

"YOU GOT HIT BY A TRUCK?" my son squealed in shock.

"Yup," I answered. "I was knocked unconscious for a few hours. When I woke up I was in the hospital with my leg and arm in a sling and my head wrapped in a bandage, but the first thing I asked was 'Where's Carly? Is she alright?' I thought that your mother may have been hurt as well and I was ready to hobble out of bed and rush to her side if she was. When they told me that she was fine, I immediately started to feel the pain I was in. And boy, was I in a lot of it. It was that moment when I realized that for me, love also meant a willingness to sacrifice your life and your safety for someone and doing anything to put their health before your own. There's not many people in this life that we would do that for. At that time, your mother was the only person I would give my life for. Despite the pain I was in, I knew that if I had to, I would do it all over again just to keep her safe. Your mom noticed, too. We even dated for a couple days because of it."

"Wait, you dated mom when you were fifteen?" he asked. "I thought mom said you got together when you were twenty-four at Uncle Spencer's wedding. Why did you and mom stop dating at all?"

"Well," I exhale, "it's a long story that involves Aunt Sam and…foreign bacon… you know what? It's not important."

"So," Fred begins, with great consideration, "you're saying that I'll never really know if I love Trista until I get hit by a truck?"

"NO!" I rush to clarify. "I'm just saying that, for me, that's when I learned just how much I was willing to sacrifice for your mom and, over time, you'll begin to figure out just what you're willing to do for the one you love. Trust me, you'll figure all of that out naturally. Please don't go wandering into traffic to test your feelings!"

Freddie Jr. slouches a little bit, looking entirely confused and frustrated. "Well, now I'm not so sure that I love Trista. I mean, I like her, but I don't know if I'd risk broken arms for her."

I smile at him sympathetically. "Don't worry. You may love her, or you may not. You don't have to have it all figured out right now. You've got plenty of time."

We both finish our milk and he props his head back on his elbow. "Love is confusing."

"It is," I nod.

"Girls are a lot of trouble."

"Yup. Funny thing is that they seem to think we're the mess. Have fun with that debate for the rest of your life."

His eyes grow wide and all I can do is laugh. I ruffle his hair just before he hops off the stool.

"Thanks, dad," he says with a small smile. "I'm gonna play online with Henry now."

He runs out of the kitchen and passes Carly as she enters, to whom he blurts a hurried greeting as rushes to his room. Carly turns to me with crossed arms and the best scowl she can muster, though I can tell she is trying to hide a smile.

"Oh, so us women are 'a lot of trouble,' are we?" she prompts.

"Oh, absolutely," I respond, unhesitant. "Even Kailynn's breaking hearts! Didn't she make a boy cry just last week?"

"Well," Carly approaches, "that had less to do with a broken heart and more to do with the sleeper hold she tried to put him in…which just has 'Sam' written all over it, by the way."

"Obviously," I agree as Carly makes her way to the fridge. "Still, you women have the power to throw us guys entirely off balance with just a flutter of your eyes. You don't call that trouble?"

She shrugs as she pulls out the pitcher of lemonade and grabs a glass from the cupboard.

"But we're worth the trouble, right?"

I grab my empty glass off the counter, place it in the sink, and swiftly turn to kiss her forehead.

"Without a doubt."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thanks for taking the time to read! For those who have been reading along: thanks for your patience! The past week has been a busy one, so this one-shot took a little longer to post than normal. I hope you all enjoyed it!**

**There are only two more chapters left! I hope to finish them by the beginning of next week. Fingers and toes crossed!**

**Hope you're all doing well! Please review, if you wish!**

**Hollaatchyagirl,**

**Phunky**


	15. June 21, 2085

_**June 21, 2085**_

Those heavy-lidded eyes aren't quite the eyes that I fell in love with eighty years ago. Time has dulled the once sparkling brown eyes, which used to project emotion so stunningly: happiness, pain, love, curiosity, fury…every emotion was somehow magnified by their unmatchable beauty.

I don't see those eyes so much these days. Today, for example, she's a bit too weak to open them, but on the rare occasions when she's able to open her eyelids just a crack I can still spot them, shining like chocolate diamonds, though age has stripped them of some of their luster.

Carly's frail hand isn't able to grip my own as fiercely as they once could. My mind doesn't retain too much nowadays, but I can still feel it clinging to old memories, one of which include us falling asleep each night, her hand firmly gripping mine as if refusing to let me escape…not that I ever dared. My imagination still recalls how she would tug on my hand excitedly towards something that she wanted to show me, as if I couldn't get there fast enough for her liking. So uniquely adorable.

Every now and then I can feel her give my hand a slight squeeze when she's too weak to speak, as if to assure me that she's still with me, and I squeeze back in response, just to let her know that I'm here. It's wonderful and devastating all at once because I'm so thankful to have this little bit of time with her, yet I know that the day will come when I'll squeeze and she won't be able to grip back.

There was a time when her smile reached her eyes. It was a smile that radiated such a blazing spirit and was entirely contagious. It never took much to bring it out: a silly joke, nature, the sound of our grandchildren playing, even a particularly good piece of fruit. I could say something trite like "her smile lit up a room," but it did (still does) so much more than that; it ignited my heart and piloted my soul. It made me feel like I could accomplish anything.

Even as she lays here, knowing that her days are numbered, she still smiles. It may not reach her eyes, but it inspires me all the same.

Age has done quite a number on me. My hair is white and sparse, my skin sags a little, I can't stand completely straight and short walks feel like long journeys. I'm an old, ugly man (which I'm fine with). Carly, on the other hand, is still just as beautiful to me as she was the day I met her. There are times when I can still see that feisty eleven-year-old fighting to the surface, even as she slowly slips further and further away from me. When I look hard enough, I can still recognize that glimmer of life peaking through like sunlight through curtains.

That's why I refuse, for now, to refer to talk about "the days to come." I don't want to "make arrangements" or "settle affairs." I just want to sit right here, next to my wife, and simply watch her breathe, as labored as those breaths may come.

I feel a slight squeeze of my hand, just enough to cause me to look up. I find Carly looking at me with heavy lidded eyes. She gives me the best smile she can muster and while it isn't as big as it used to be, it's incredibly serene and still manages to make my old ticker flutter, even after all these years.

I don't stay anything at first. I just smile back. Her chest raises and falls slowly. She opens her mouth to speak. I should encourage her not to waste her energy, but I'm admittedly selfish: I can never resist an opportunity to hear her voice. She has a simple request, which comes slowly.

"Talk…to me."

As simple as it should be, I don't know what to talk to her about. It feels like we haven't talked in ages. I shake my head.

"What about, darling?"

"Anything," she responds in a low voice. "Tell me…a story."

I smile. I've accumulated many stories in my time, but I have one that is still my favorite.

"Alright, Carls," I agree, calling her by her teenage nickname. "How about I tell you the story of us?"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: My lovely readers! A mixture of wedding planning and writer's block have combined in order to prevent me from updating this story as consistently as I would have liked to. I apologize and thank you for your patience!**

**The next chapter will be the last chapter! The last time I gave you a deadline I managed to screw it up entirely. I would love for the final chapter to be up by the end of this weekend, though.**

**I hope you all are having a wonderful night! I still love seeing your reviews and I thank you all who have been keeping up with the story and been so consistently supportive! I love you all!**

**Hollaatchyagirl,**

**Phunky**

**P.S. - Are you a Creddie fanatic and want a place where you can connect with other shippers like yourself? Join http:/www[dot]creddiefans.2ya[dot]com! It's a great community where you can join discussions, promote your Creddie fics as well as your favorite fics by other authors, and just express your love for your favorite pairing. It also gives you a chance to connect with other amazing authors on this site. make sure to check it out!**


	16. Revisiting June 21, 2005

_**June 21, 2005**_

My apartment now smells burnt popcorn.

But it's not my fault, it's Spencer's. He thought it would be cool to make a sculpture in the shape of an ear of corn entirely out of popcorn. I don't remember him saying that the sculpture would involve lights or heat of any kind, so I'm not sure how it caught on fire. I didn't ask too many questions, though, because by now I understand that things just…catch on fire around my brother. I don't know how, they just do.

"Are you okay, Spencer?" I shout from the bottom of the stairs.

He looks up from the charred project, looking confused and disappointed at the same time. "Yeah, Carly, I'm fine. This just sucks! It was going to be really cool!"

I step down and walk towards the disaster scene near the kitchen. "Don't you think that maybe it would be a good idea - a safer idea - for you to go back to law school?"

"Now you sound like dad," he accuses with a grimace.

"How can I sound like dad when he doesn't even know you dropped out?" I dare to ask, giving him a sly smile.

He searches for a comeback, but can only come up with a mumbled "shut up." I mean to laugh, but I'm distracted by the awful smell of scorched corn.

"Uugh!" I groan. "That smell is really bad, Spence!"

He makes a face, then nods. "Yeah, it's pretty awful. I better see if we have any more of that air freshener lying around."

"Can I go outside for a little while?"

"Sure, kiddo," he agrees. "Don't go to far, though, alright? It's almost time for lunch."

I couldn't resist another jab at my brother. "Are you sure you can manage to make lunch without burning Bushwell to the ground?"

He makes a face and screeches, "Nyeeeeeeeh!"

"Nyeeeeeeeeeeh!" I reply just before exiting the apartment.

Bushwell Plaza doesn't have a lot of kids living here. Well, there is this one boy on the fourth floor, but he has this really weird obsession with cheese and hates television. WHO HATES TELEVISION?

As soon as I enter the hallway I can hear the elevator door close. I decide to take the stairwell rather than wait for the slow elevator. I think I'll head for the park or something.

By the time I reach the lobby, I suddenly decide that now would be a good time to write in my journal. I wish I had thought of the idea before I left the apartment, but I guess I was too busy trying to escape the awful smell (the smell in the lobby isn't much better, though. It kind of smells like yucky soup). Oh, well. Maybe the elevator is free now; I'll just head back to apartment and grab the book.

As I'm about the head for the elevator, I notice a boy holding a large box with a bag balanced on top of it. I can't see his face, but he looks around my size, so he could be the same age as me. There's an envelope hanging over his back pocket and as he adjusts the box in his arms I notice the envelope fall to the floor. He clearly doesn't notice because he continues to make his way to the front exit.

"WHAT'S THAT ON MY PERFECT FLOOR?" Lewbert yells. I rush forward and grab the envelope off of the ground and call out to the boy, ignoring the insane doorman.

"Hey, you!" I call out.

The boy turns around, then gives me kind of a startled look. He's definitely new. I know I've never seen him around here before. He's kind of cute…in a frightened, nervous sort of way. He doesn't respond, so I hold out his letter to show him that I'm not some weirdo.

"You dropped this," I point out. Then I realize that he can't exactly grab it.

"Oh! Sorry, I guess your hands are a little full."

The boy smiles a small smile. "Uh, y-yeah, a little," he responds in a low voice. I can't imagine why he's so nervous. He tries to improve the grip on the box, but as he does the bag sitting on top falls to the floor, which makes me giggle. I don't mean to laugh at him, but I just know that he'd rather struggle by himself all the way to the garbage than ask for help. My brother's the same way. Luckily, he laughs along. Instead of waiting on him to ask, I offer.

"Need some help?" I ask. He looks dazed for a moment and doesn't answer right away. I hope I didn't make him mad by asking, but then I see his face suddenly break into a smile. I can't help but notice that he has a really nice smile.

"Oh! Uh, sure! Yeah, I could use some help. Thanks a lot!" he replies as I take the fallen bag and continue to hold on the envelope.

I end up finding out a lot about him during our trip to the dumpster. His name is Freddie Benson and he moved here from Oregon with his mom. He doesn't mention his dad or any siblings, so I assume he's an only child. We're the same age and him and his mother have moved into the apartment just across the hall from me. I'm not sure why, but I'm kind of comforted by the fact that he lives so close. He's funny and really nice. Maybe we'll become really good friends!

When we reach our floor we wave goodbye to each other and go into our separate apartments. Mine still smells like burnt corn, but now there's a faint scent of something flowery. Spencer must have found air freshener…not that it really helped. Spencer is running around the apartment, opening windows.

"Hey, back so soon?" he asks with amusement.

"I'm just picking up my journal," I explain. "Hey, a new kid just moved across the hall! His name is Freddie and he's my age. He's really nice!"

"Errrg! Uh, coolio!" Spencer replies as he struggles to open the large window by the stairs. There's a sudden knock on the door. I turn around and open the door to find Freddie there, holding a random pen.

"Uhhh," he starts, holding the pen out. "I found this outside of your door. Is this yours?"

I smile and shake my head. "Nope, not mine. Hey, Spence, did you lose a pen?"

Spencer turns from the window and leans to get a better view of the door.

"Uhhh, no?" he answers, confused. "And if I did, I'm sure we have others!"

Freddie nods his head. "Oh! Uh, right! Yeah, I just thought…well, you never know! It could have been a special pen…or something…"

I giggle again. I don't know why, there's just something really…cute about Freddie.

"Oh! Spencer, this is Freddie! He's the new neighbor I was just telling you about!" I turn to Freddie and beckon him to come further into the apartment. "Freddie, this is my brother and guardian, Spencer."

Freddie waves in Spencer's direction. "Hi!"

"Hey, there, Fredderooney!" Spencer greets. "Welcome to Bushwell!"

He's always so welcoming to everyone he meets. That's what I love about my brother.

"Thanks!" Freddie says brightly. "I'm glad that we're neighbors. You're both really nice."

"Thanks, you too," I compliment with a grin. Then I get a sudden idea. Turning to Spencer, I ask, "Hey, can Freddie have lunch with us?"

"Sure," he shrugs, "as long as he doesn't mind the smoky for a while."

Freddie shakes his head. "I don't mind at all! Thanks! I'll just tell my mom that I'm here."

"Cool! See you in a bit!"

"I'll be right back, Carly."

I close the door as he quickly exits and turn to Spencer, who's smiling.

"He seems like a really nice kid," he observes. "Who knows? Maybe you guys will end up being the best of friends!"

Looking back at the door, I smile at the thought.

"Yeah, I hope so."

**THE END**

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thank you all SO MUCH for your support throughout this story! I hope you all enjoyed it! I'm always sad to end a project, but I'm kind of glad it's over so that I can move on to other things!**

**I'm currently trying to figure out the flow for another project. I have no clue when I'm going to debut it, but I'm praying that I can figure it out soon. Please send good vibes!**

**I want to thank everyone that reviewed and added this story to their favorites and/or alerts! I appreciate your support and wouldn't find the encouragement to continue to write without it! I love you guys!**

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**Have a great weekend, y'all! I hope to see you all soon in my next venture (whenever that may be)!**

**Hollaatchyagirl,**

**Phunky**


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